Frog Prince, Meet Cinderella
by CritterWhisperer
Summary: Handsome, powerful, rich Sesshoumaru decides to escape his life for a while. He changes his appearance to that of a geeky human, who no one would spare a second glance. He meets Kagome, who gives him a new view of the world and the people in it. AU SxK
1. Meet the Prince

_Summary: Sesshoumaru, sick of the superficial world of the rich and powerful, decides he needs a vacation from everything – even himself. With the help of kitsune magic and unknown-of acting skills, the normally handsome, cold, stoic daiyoukai transforms himself into a geeky human nobody in order to hide his identity as he gets a job in a retail store. The experience opens his eyes to parts of himself that he never knew existed and he gains new respect for other people, especially when his co-worker, Kagome, catches his attention._

_Author's Note: Hey all. Here is the beginning of a new fanfic. The idea popped into my head one day at work. Plot ideas wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to write the beginning and see where it took me. _

_The title is just a working one for now. I may come up with something better. I am still hammering out other little details, so if something doesn't seem to make the most sense – I'm working on it. As I get more ideas, I may end up rewriting everything. _

_Partly, it depends on whether anyone thinks I should continue writing it._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of its characters._

Sesshoumaru glared at the remains of what had been a practice dummy. Actually, the remains of three practice dummies. They had been sturdy things, specially reinforced to withstand the strength of a demon's punches. But they didn't last long under Sesshoumaru's temper. Now they looked something like scarecrows that had been turned inside out. And he was no calmer than he was before the carnage.

"Man, you really need to get laid. Anger like that, that happens when you let yourself get all backed up."

"I'm not backed up. Must you solve all of life's problems with sex?" Sesshoumaru growled as he cast an icy glare toward the only other person in the room.

"Is the sky blue?" Miroku smiled back, not intimidated at all. He had been friends with Sesshoumaru for years, ever since he started working for Takashi Enterprises. He had started as an intern in business law. His obvious talents and sharp mind landed him a permanent position that led to promotions and recognition from higher-ups, as well as the ever-elusive respect from one Sesshoumaru Takashi.

"Well then. What's the problem today? Incompetent employees? Inuyasha did something embarrassing in public again?"

"Father."

"Ah." That was answer enough.

Sesshoumaru's father, Touga Takashi, was CEO of Takashi Enterprises. Sesshoumaru was his eldest son and heir to the family business. Or so was the official story. The real story is that the Takashis were a family of inuyoukai that had once been the powerful rulers of the western regions of Japan, recognized by both humans and demons alike. To the youkai society, that standing still held. But for the unaware human society, the Takashi empire was limited to business, only. (Miroku only knew of this because of his abilities to identify demons – a latent holy power inherited from a long family history of Buddhist monks. His knowledge was probably one of the reasons he was one of Sesshoumaru's few trusted friends.)

Over the past two centuries of the company's history, Touga and Sesshoumaru had been in the perpetual role of CEO father and son. Well-used illusionary spells made it appear that they aged like any other human. Every 40 years or so, they would perform a passing-of-the-torch charade, reset the aging spells, and go on with business as usual.

To be honest, Sesshoumaru was getting tired of his role. He had never much liked the pomp and circumstance that had come with the royal court of the western lands. He took every opportunity to escape it and patrol his lands, ensuring the safety of his people. Those patrols never lasted long enough and he would be thrown into the courtly lifestyle again, ignoring windbag nobles and their ninny daughters, who would throw themselves at him, hoping he might choose them as a mate one day.

Things had not changed much since he took on the role of the heir of a multi-billion dollar corporation. It only got worse because now he had to fight off other CEOs who hoped to merge with his company and deal with their ninny _human_ daughters, as well as demonesses, who hoped to catch his eye. Oh, he would indulge in what they could offer from time to time. Okay, maybe more often than that. But all of them were of little use outside the bedroom. He couldn't fathom having to spend any more time with them than necessary. And that was part of the reason for his ill temper.

"He wants me to be mated. He's practically demanded it and threatened to bring a matchmaker into it."

"Is that all? Who needs a matchmaker with the way women throw themselves at you?" The lucky dog. Miroku would give his left arm to get that kind of attention.

"All brainless twits."

"You don't know that. You hardly spend any time to get to know any of them." That was true. Sesshoumaru was never much for socializing. In fact, he had grown into the habit of using his work as a shield from the rest of the world. If he wasn't in the office, he was at home, working in his study. He approached social functions and business dinners as if he were going to his own execution.

"If their conversation could keep my interest for more than five minutes, I might be able to bear spending more time with them."

"Well, maybe you need to move outside your normal social circles." At the glare he received, Miroku changed tactics. "This is an old subject for Touga, anyways. What else is wrong?"

"He's decided to retire. For good this time. He said he wants to spend his golden years with Izayoi."

"His golden years? Hah, he's into his diamond years by now. Beyond that. And both of them still have centuries ahead of them."

"Yes. Father has just become bored with the company for now. He's going to turn over control to me."

"Well, that's no big deal. You'd welcome the work."

"He wants Inuyasha to be vice president."

"Oh." Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha had never gotten along. They were half-brothers. Izayoi was Inuyasha's mother. Often, Sesshoumaru ridiculed him for being a hanyou. In reality, his human blood did not bother him that much. Well, it did back when his father had mated Izayoi. In those days, unions between humans and demons were frowned upon. Sesshoumaru was thrown into a number of battles to help his father maintain his control over the western lands. There were some times that Sesshoumaru had considered challenging his father, himself, just to ease the tension. But something always held him back from going through with it.

But that was centuries ago. Things settled. Minds changed. He got over Inuyasha's heritage. Now, he just didn't like him because the hanyou was a loud-mouthed idiot. He had a habit of doing stupid things that caused embarrassment to the family, also. Like that time when he was arrested at a party being held in a five-star hotel. Sesshoumaru never got all of the details. He had read the report up to the point that it stated a donkey had been in the hotel suite, and decided that he didn't _want_ to know the details.

"Father, in his infinite wisdom, believes Inuyasha is ready to join the family business."

"Well, I should think he would have been ready. He's what, 300 years old? How many times has he gone through school?"

"His school days were spent much like his leisure days. Full of drinking an partying, but broken up with the occasional class that he slept through most of the time."

Miroku shook his head. "I don't know why you force yourself to put up with these things if they are going to make you miserable."

"It is the demand my father and alpha."

Ugh. Dogs. "No, I think it's because you're a masochist. Otherwise you would have gone off on your own, or challenged your father by now."

"My situation would be little improved in challenging my father."

"Maybe, maybe not. At least you won't have to worry about it for a while. What with leaving for America next week."

"Hn." Yes, he and Miroku, along with a number of other employees were going to America to see to a merger. They were acquiring a manufacturing plant that was going under. They planned to completely revamp the facility to be a production line for fuel-efficient engines, and add a research and development department. It would create hundreds of new jobs in the area.

It would be months before he returned to Japan. Sesshoumaru welcomed the idea that he would have at least one continent and one ocean between himself and his father, depending on which way you traveled around the world. Maybe by that time he would have a new perspective.


	2. Meet Cinderella

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Inuyasha or any of its characters. I do not own and Disney/Pixar movies either. Well, I own DVD copies of some of them, but that doesn't count._

"What are we doing here?" Sesshoumaru asked, fighting the urge to release a long-suffering sigh. He tolerated too much from his friend. For that, he found himself dragged to any number of unsavory places, and always regretted it.

They had arrived in the US a couple of days ago. It had all been a whirlwind of activity – meetings with local officials, building contractors, and employees that were transferring from Japan to help with the initial set-up. In addition, they had been getting their personal affairs arranged. The company had purchased condos in the more upscale part of town for the transferring employees so they would have places to stay during the process.

"I wanted to get a new TV for my condo." Miroku answered as he started walking toward the electronics department.

"And you had to come _here_ for one?" Sesshoumaru cast a disdainful look about the busy department store. "You make enough money in our company that you could purchase state-of-the-art appliances anywhere."

A particularly pungent-smelling shopper walked by. Sesshoumaru fought the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust and began to, discreetly, breathe through his mouth. "Why come here amongst these . . . unwashed masses?"

Miroku rolled his eyes, wondering how he managed to stay friends with Sesshoumaru when they had been from completely opposite ends of the financial spectrum. Not having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Miroku had worked hard to get where he was. He had been your typical broke-ass-poor-living-on-Ramen-noodles college student, paying tuition through a number of minor scholarships, student loans, and whatever income he got from various low-paying, menial jobs. It had all paid off for him in the end, but he had not lost his knack for thrifty spending. Why should he go to some place and pay five times as much for the exact same thing at a discount store?

"This is a nice part of town. I think these masses here are better-washed than most." Indeed, this particular store was near one of those shopping centers full of boutiques where women pay hundreds for a single pair of shoes. And ugly shoes at that.

Sesshoumaru had barely listened to Miroku's reply. He had been distracted by a child in a cart, screaming over a toy, or something. The mother seemed completely oblivious to the ear-piercing racket. That, and he was getting a lot of stares. Men were glancing over him, summing him up. Women stared longingly. As if he would waste his time with any of these women.

Of course, he expected that in a place like this. He was dressed in an expensive suit that would have caught eyes by itself. Tailored onto his well-built physique and coupled with his aristocratic features and flowing, silver hair . . . well, he may as well have been carrying a neon sign over his head to attract the same amount of attention. He was sure the markings on his face raised a couple of eyebrows among some people, not that he cared.

It was only in the past couple of decades that he had stopped bothering to hide them, or any of his demonic features. For the most part, he looked human. He kept his pointed ears covered with his hair and trimmed his claws on a daily basis. Markings and hair and eye color could be explained away easily. These days, even the pointed ears could be explained as a plastic surgery endeavor.

He glared coldly at a woman who had given him a seductive smile. Or it was her attempt at seductive. At least in his own circles, people were somewhat acclimated to his appearance. That didn't stop the women in those circles from flinging themselves at him periodically. Of course, most of them knew him well enough to know what to expect. Sometimes he thought about getting Shippou, a kitsune who was a master of illusions, to develop a new glamor for him. One that would make him stand out less. But he couldn't just do that while being a public figure. Besides, his pride liked people being able to recognize him on the spot and grovel before his powerful being, as they should.

"You know you were provided with a TV. There's no reason to be here," He finally returned his attention back to Miroku.

"I don't like that TV. Quit complaining and enjoy the fact that you are not stuck in you superficial world of the rich and famous."

"No, instead I'm stuck in the superficial world of the poor and unknown. It's just as bad."

Miroku let out a sigh of frustration. Sesshoumaru was completely jaded when it came to other people. The problem was that he had not really spent a lot of time getting to know many people, humans or demons. Not that he could blame the daiyoukai. When you are as powerful as Sesshoumaru, people have a tendency to always want _something_ from you. He was pretty sure that Sesshoumaru could count all of his true friends on one hand. He kind of felt sorry for the guy. He imagined him being very lonely, underneath it all.

All the more reason to get him out amongst real people once in a while. And what better place than a department store? People from all walks of life shop in places like these. One can see the best and the worst of people here. But, really, Miroku's focus was the electronics department. He has few vices, but one of them is electronics – all the little gadgets and gizmos that come out newer, shinier, smaller, and faster every year. If it's something new, he's got to have it. It makes his thrifty shopping skills even more worthwhile. Otherwise, he would be bankrupt by now.

The only vice he has stronger than his love of electronics is his love of women. They are his Achilles' Heel. Speaking of which, he spotted a real hottie that was regarding Sesshoumaru with a wary expression. He resisted the urge to elbow the daiyoukai in the ribs to get him to quit casting death glares at everyone. When her gaze shifted to his, she noticed Miroku's friendly smile and flashed him a smile in return.

"Good afternoon," The girl greeted. "How are you finding everything today?"

"Oh, I'm finding everything very well." Miroku answered, surreptitiously looking the girl up and down. She was roughly his height, maybe a couple of inches shorter. Her body had an athletic build – slim, but still curvy. Her long, black hair was in a high ponytail. A fringe of bangs framed her face. She had bright brown eyes accented with pink eyeshadow. He cast a quick glance at her name tag. "Sango, I'm looking for a new television."

"Oh . . . well, all of our TVs are over here." She lead them to the wall of displays. Miroku was unable to resist checking out her butt as she walked.

As Miroku looked over the various sizes and styles, he asked about some of the details of several models. Sesshoumaru wanted to roll his eyes at his friend's antics. Miroku knew everything there was to know about TVs, and any other useless gadget there was out there. He knew Miroku was just trying to keep the salesgirl there to attempt flirting.

After a couple of questions, Sango flushed a bit, "I really don't know too much about them, but I can get someone who does." She pulled her walkie-talkie from her belt, "Kagome, I need your expertise at the TVs."

A voice over the walkie crackled back, "I don't know about expertise, but I'm on my way over."

Another girl appeared from a set of double doors that probably led to a stockroom. She was slightly shorter than Sango. She had a slim build, and her work uniform fit her in such a way as to suggest that there were generous curves underneath the clothing, without making it completely obvious. She had a round face framed in dark bangs so long that they fell into her deep, brown eyes. The rest of her hair was pulled into a sloppy bun, revealing a long, slender neck.

Overall, she was attractive. Hardly gorgeous. Sesshoumaru wondered if it was part of some conspiracy for this store to have attractive girls selling expensive electronics. A flirtatious woman could probably convince a man to buy any number of useless things. As he watched her approach, he decided that may not be the case, totally. As she walked, she had a natural swing to her hips. Not over-pronounced as if she were really trying to walk like that. In fact, with the way she held her head high and her shoulders thrown back, she looked more like she was marching.

As soon as she was close enough to be heard over the volume of the TVs, she stopped, "Hi, how can I help you?" She gave a neutral smile and glanced back and forth between Sesshoumaru and Miroku, waiting for one of them to speak.

"Hello," Miroku greeted. "I am interested in a new TV and was hoping to learn a little about the ones you have here."

"Sure, what size are you looking for?"

Sesshoumaru half-listened to the conversation. He wasn't really interested in the specifics of the TVs. And all of the noise back there was distracting – TVs blaring, people talking, children screaming . . . A loud voice started speaking over the walkie hooked to Kagome's pocket while she was listening to one of Miroku's questions. He was thankful that she turned the walkie down to reduce the noise level. Apparently it was even too much for humans.

He noticed she cast a meaningful look to Sango while she continued the conversation with Miroku. Sango walked away, much to Miroku's disappointment, but returned a few moments later with a phone in her hand.

"Excuse me for a minute," She gave the two males an apologetic look, "Kagome, there is a woman on the phone asking if we have the movie, _Up_, in stock."

Without pausing for thought, Kagome answered, "It's not out on DVD yet."

Sango relayed the message and looked confused over the reply. With his sensitive hearing, Sesshoumaru could hear the overly-confident voice claiming the movie had been advertised in the store's weekly circular, and that it had been advertised on TV as coming out that past Friday.

When Sango restated the comment, Kagome shook her head patiently, "That was for the video games that have been released for it. Friday was when the movie came out in the theaters. It'll be at least a few months before it comes out on DVD."

Sango nodded and walked away, explaining everything to the woman on the phone. Sesshoumaru was unable to hear the reply, but he could imagine the person on the other end was very embarrassed to have been proven wrong so thoroughly.

"Sorry about that," Kagome turned back to Miroku without a moment's hesitation and masterfully hiding the fact that she thought the person on the other end of the phone line was a complete idiot. "What was it you were saying?"

"I was wondering what you thought about this 47-inch Ayano?" Miroku asked. Sesshoumaru took a little notice in the salesgirl's answer. Ayano was a company Takashi Enterprises had acquired a few years ago.

"Hmm. . . I wouldn't suggest any TVs made by Ayano."

"Why not? It looks like a nice picture."

Kagome nodded her head. "Oh, it is. Plasma screens always seem to have the better picture. But Ayanos. A lot of them break within the year. They overheat or just short out."

Well, they were still trying to whip that company into shape. "After a year, it should be time to replace it anyways." Sesshoumaru replied coldly.

Kagome looked at the tall, pale man with some surprise. Up until this point, she had thought that he was either mute, or couldn't speak English. "For most people, televisions are not like computers, where they become out-dated in the short span of one year. Besides, Ayanos are the most expensive televisions we sell. Would you want to shell out that kind of cash on something that can't make it past one year, when so many other, cheaper versions can last for a decade?" All of this had been spoken in the most polite, matter-of-fact manner.

Sesshoumaru was about to reply when an irate-looking woman, holding one child on her hip and trailed by two more, marched up behind Kagome.

"I need a video game." She announced, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had just interrupted a conversation. Kagome whirled around to face the woman as she continued her rant. "I have been waiting forever while you have been standing here, chatting with this man."

Kagome was about to reply but Sesshoumaru's cold voice stopped her. "Excuse me. This young woman is assisting my friend and I with a television. As we were here first, you can wait until we are done or find someone else to help you."

This took Kagome by such surprise that she was almost too stunned to call for Sango.

"There is no one else in the area." The woman continued, ignoring Sesshoumaru's cold glare. "I am in a hurry and my children are getting cranky from having to wait."

"In such a hurry, yet you find the time to buy a video game? No doubt to be thrust into the hands of your attention deficient children, whose temperaments are of no concern to me. You should teach them to read, instead."

The woman stared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form a response. Luckily, Sango appeared at that moment.

"Did you need something, Kagome?"

Kagome, avoiding eye contact and biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, simply nodded and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. Oh this was going to be a great story to tell the others. Pulling herself together, she managed to say, "Could you help this lady with a video game? Thanks, Sango."

Sango walked off with the woman and her brood while Kagome returned her attention to the two men. Miroku had been covering his mouth to keeping from laughing at the whole exchange. "I think we have been keeping you long enough. I'd like to get this one." He pointed to one of the TVs.

She nodded her head, "I'll bring it from the back. It'll be just a few minutes." She turned and walked back to the double doors she had come through earlier. Once she disappeared behind them, Sesshoumaru could hear her burst into hysterical laughter.

"You didn't have to be so rude, Sesshoumaru."

"I was returning the sentiment."

"We cost her a sale."

"She's making more from your sale. Besides, your little girlfriend is getting that one."

Miroku smiled, "Sango is lovely, isn't she? Think I should ask her out?"

"Since when did you care what I think of such matters?"

"Good point."

Kagome burst through the double doors, pushing a flat-bed cart loaded with Miroku's TV. She spoke into her radio as she expertly guided the cart with one hand. "I'll check you out over here and have someone take this out to your car for you." She pushed the cart to one of the cash registers.

Sango was at another register, finishing up her transaction with the rude woman. She was looking rather put out. Apparently the woman had been complaining about Sesshoumaru's rude words. The woman left as soon as she saw Sesshoumaru approaching.

"Sorry I had to push her off on you," Kagome muttered as she rang up Miroku's purchase.

"Oh, it's alright." Sango smiled. "I've dealt with worse."

"Hm . . . we all have. Sometimes I think all of the scholars and scientists could stop theorizing if they just observed the electronics department of any MegaMart. I discover the center of the universe here at least once a day."

Sesshoumaru smiled at this statement, unable to stop himself. A young man wearing the store uniform approached.

"This is Jason. He'll help you out to your car with this." Kagome explained. "Good-bye and have a nice day." She spoke as Jason began to wheel the cart toward the store entrance. Sesshoumaru began to follow him.

"One question before we go." Miroku reached out to take Sango's hand. "Sango, my dear, would you do me the honor of bearing my children?"

Sango looked as if she had just been struck in the face and was indecisive on how to react. A heavy hand landed on Miroku's shoulder and pulled him away from the perplexed woman. "Don't mind him, he's harmless." Sesshoumaru steered Miroku away stating, "You shouldn't be allowed in public."

Miroku looked back over his shoulder, "Call me." He yelled back to Sango.

"That card only has your office number in Kyoto on it."

"Oh yeah. Damn."


	3. Betcha You Can't

_Author's Note: Back by popular demand. Wow, folks, thanks for your many reviews. I really didn't expect such a great response.**sniffles, wipes away a happy tear** This was just an idea that seemed fun and original and I threw it out there to gauge what people thought of it. And it seems everyone wants more. It makes me wish I came up with this idea long ago, and that I had a more sure idea of where I was going with it._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Inuyasha, or any of its characters. Nor do I own characters from Family Matters or Saved By the Bell._

Sango watched the two men walk away, then looked down at the business card that had been pressed into her hand. "Well, that was a new pick-up line. I'll give him points for originality. Think I should give him a call?"

Kagome, who had been busy wrestling a security device onto a high-dollar item, all the while mentally cursing people who felt the need to steal, looked up and inspected the card in Sango's hand. "I think if you want a long-distance relationship, you should try to keep it limited to within the continental US."

Sango looked at the card again, then flipped it over to inspect the back. It was blank. "What the? Why would he give me a card with no local number? What am I supposed to do, email him? Is he even going to stay in the country very long, or is he just visiting? What was he thinking?"

"Maybe he was so swept away by your beauty that he just couldn't think straight." Kagome smiled at her co-worker.

"No need to be mean." Sango replied in mock hurt.

"Who was being mean? He was just an idiot? Is that a better explanation?"

Sango laughed. "Maybe, but he was a cute idiot."

"Maybe he'll come back one day."

"Yeah, and he can try to weasel a number from me, and I can decide whether I want to give him a real number, or not. That's how it should be, anyways." Both women nodded in agreement.

"You know," Sango continued with a sly look, "His friend was pretty hot, too."

"More than hot, especially when he smiled." Kagome answered as if she were talking about the weather.

"Well, don't sound so excited. You didn't even act as if you noticed him until he spoke."

"What was there to notice? His death glares at everyone in his immediate vicinity?"

"Yeah, but he seemed to like you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He smiled at _you_."

"He smiled at what I said. There's nothing to that."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Kagome sighed, "Sango, guys like that date super-models, actresses . . . women like that. Not Plain Janes who live the unglamorous life of working in a MegaMart."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. . ." Sango began to rebut. A voice over the radio interrupted.

"Clean up in baby food."

Sango talked into her radio. "I'm nearby. What spilled?"

The voice crackled back, "Mashed peas. A couple of broken jars."

She groaned as she walked away, "Peas. Why is it always peas? Why can't it ever be something that might smell good, like mashed bananas?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Miroku gave another dejected sigh as he drove toward the apartment complex.

"Stop that." Sesshoumaru snapped. He was in no mood to deal with Miroku's antics.

"I wish you would have let me go back." He lamented.

"The store isn't going anywhere. Likely, neither is that girl. You can harass her some other time. Preferably when I'm not with you." He shifted uncomfortably. "Why didn't you think ahead to how big a box the TV would come in?"

It wasn't so much the width or length of the box that was the problem. It was the height. Just several inches too tall to sit on the backseat of their rented car. They might have been able to fit it in if they took the TV out of the box, but Miroku refused, not wanting his new purchase to get damaged on the way home. By a minor miracle, they were able to wedge it into the the backseat and set it slant-wise, so the bottom of the box was pressed right up against the backs of the front seats. Sesshoumaru's seat had to be moved forward in order to get the box to fit even in this manner. Of course, that also left Sesshoumaru's tall frame without much leg room and he now sat with his knees pressed against the dashboard. Briefly, he considered maiming Miroku, just a little bit.

"Sorry. We should be there soon."

"Hn." He had no doubt removing the object of his loathing from the vehicle would prove to be just as much of an ordeal. It took three people to get the stupid thing in there and it was probably stuck for good, as these things seem to always turn out. He'd probably have to rip the roof off the car to get it out. That would be an interesting one to explain: No really, we passed under a _very_ low bridge. Who would have thought there wouldn't be at least five feet of clearance? Or he could take the usual intimidation approach: I _said_ I wanted a convertible.

Miroku let out another sigh, "Think she would go out on a date with me?"

"Not if she has any sense."

"Now that's not very nice. And here I was going to try to get that other girl, Kagome, to go out with you."

Sesshoumaru shifted again, attempting to get a least one measly millimeter of space between his knees and the dashboard. Why did he even let Miroku get him into this situation? "How did _that_ idea worm its way into your brain?"

"Well, I admit she looked a bit plain in her work clothes. But I bet when she puts on some make-up, does something with her hair, puts on something sexy . . ."

"Then _you_ ask her out."

"My heart belongs to Sango."

"Your heart belongs to the most attractive ass that comes into sight."

"And that would be Sango."

"You should consider raising your standards to include other virtues."

"This coming from the ma – er – youkai who thinks all women are superficial, gold-digging twits? What other virtues should I consider?"

"Someone of better social standing. Certainly you have met better looking women."

"Now who's being superficial?"

Sesshoumaru shifted again. When would he be able to get out of this car?

"You seemed to like her."

"Who?"

"Kagome." Oh, back to that one.

"She didn't drool over me. That makes her tolerable."

"She's smart, too. She knows her stuff."

"That doesn't mean she's smart. Anyone can memorize information about TVs."

"She handles customers well."

"There's nothing impressive about that."

"Yes, there is. It takes a lot of control and patience to be polite to people when they are being rude."

Sesshoumaru turned to regard his friend. Who did Miroku think he was lecturing about patience and control? "I have no need to be polite to people."

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't, but for us mere mortals . . . haven't you ever heard the saying 'you can catch more flies with honey?'"

"I have no need of flies, either."

"No need to act dense. Oh, never mind. Heaven forbid I try to get you to stop looking down your nose at anything."

"She's just a salesgirl, doing a job that a well-trained monkey could do."

"You couldn't do it."

"Of course I could. But I won't."

"Why not?"

"It would not do for one of my position to be seen doing such a menial job."

"So wear a disguise."

Sesshoumaru grew suspicious, "Why would I wish to do anything of the sort?"

"To prove me wrong. I don't think you could last a month."

"And I care about what you think I can and cannot do?"

Miroku exhaled an exasperated sigh, "Come on, Sesshoumaru. It's a great idea. You don't say much about it, but I know you're getting sick of your lifestyle. This is a great chance to get away from it for a while and get a new view on how other people live."

"I have too much work to do and I don't care about what other people do."

Miroku waved away Sesshoumaru's answer as he turned into the entrance to the apartment complex. "You have enough employees here that can handle the workload. You just don't trust them to do it. Besides, you would still be here if there were any emergencies. I think you're afraid I'm right."

"I am not afraid of anything," Sesshoumaru all but growled.

"Sure, sure." Miroku replied in a placating tone.

Sesshoumaru was about to snarl another comment, but he stopped as the full force of the idea hit him. Maybe the lecher had a point. Maybe this is what he needed to get that new perspective. "Very well."

"What?" Miroku asked as he pulled into a parking space.

"I'll disguise myself and get a job at that store. And I _will_ last more than a month." Sesshoumaru answered as he opened the door and unfolded his tall frame from the cramped car. He began to walk toward his condo as he planned the details for this endeavor. First and foremost would be to get a disguise. He would call Shippou for that, of course.

"This will be great!" Miroku exclaimed, thrilled that he was getting Sesshoumaru to do something out of the ordinary. "Hey, where are you going? What about the TV?"

"You can get that monstrosity out of the car by yourself."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shippou appeared at his door a couple of days later with a confused, half-awake, bed-bedraggled Miroku in tow. He was grinning like . . . well, not so much like the cat that swallowed the canary, but more like the cat that broke into the pet store and enjoyed the buffet in the parakeet cage. A sense of foreboding came over Sesshoumaru and settled somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" Shippou greeted as he pushed past Sesshoumaru.

"It's too early to be morning." Miroku yawned as he pulled his robe closed and began a kind of zombie shuffle toward the kitchen. "What's going on that could wait until . . . five hours after whatever time it is now?"

"Sorry, Miroku, but I thought you would want to see this."

"The only thing I want to see right now is a cup of coffee. You have coffee, don't you, Sesshoumaru?"

"There's a fresh pot." Sesshoumaru answered as he shut the door. He wasn't too thrilled about the early visit either, but he had already been awake, at least.

"I've been working on your glamor for the past two days. I worked hard to make sure it followed what you wanted, and added a couple of details that I thought would make it just perfect." If possible, Shippou's grin got bigger as he held out a silver bracelet.

"Miroku's question stands. Why couldn't this wait?"

"Well, I thought you wanted it as soon as possible. Besides, I couldn't wait to see how it turned out."

Sesshoumaru took the bracelet and inspected it. The feeling of foreboding became the icy-cold fingers of Dread skating down his spine. This was turning out to be a bad idea. Morbid curiosity was the only thing that compelled him to unhook the clasp and put the piece of jewelry around his wrist.

It was roughly at that moment that Miroku re-entered the living room, "Stupid youkai and their inhuman energy. Why have decaf coffee. Caffeine doesn't affect them anyways. Maybe if I really _believe_ there is caffeine . . ." He looked up from glaring at his coffee mug, dropped it, and burst out laughing.

Sesshoumaru regarded the spilled coffee and the stain it had made on his carpet. He glared at Miroku, "You're going to clean that up." Did his voice sound a little strange?

Instead of the expected response, he was surprised to see Miroku point at him and break into more hysterical laughter as he fell to his knees and leaned against the kitchen door frame for support. He heard Shippou snickering, too. When he turned his most intimidating glare toward Shippou, the kitsune also broke into hysterics. What was going on?

Sesshoumaru spun around and walked to his bedroom, his goal being the full-length mirror in the master bathroom. He was shocked to see the total stranger staring back at him. Okay, he didn't expect to look exactly like himself – that was the whole point of the disguise – but still . . .

The person staring back at him was not wholly unattractive. He looked like someone that could clean up well, but was not likely turn heads otherwise. The individual features of the face were decent-looking, but something just seemed to be off when they were all put together. Maybe it was that the chin was a little weak, or the nose seemed a little too big for the face. The eyes were a nice shape but the color was a dull brown. The ears were fine but stuck out a bit. Shippou had even gone so far as to scatter a little adult acne across the forehead. To top it off was a mop of dark, short hair, parted down the middle with a cowlick sticking up on the side.

Without thinking, Sesshoumaru lifted his hand to attempt to smooth the cowlick down. The sensation of running his hand over the illusionary hair was unnerving. He was accustomed to this feeling from the previous times he had used such spells. Still, it was strange to run his fingers through the silvery locks that he could not see, even if he could feel them. The cowlick refused to be tamed and Sesshoumaru glared at the image in the mirror. Now he saw what the others were laughing at. The reflected glare was anything but intimidating. People might have found a hissing kitten more threatening.

Giving up on that one task, he looked at the rest of his image to assess the kitsune's work. He was just as tall as he ever was, but the muscle mass was not the same. He had never been particularly bulky in that area, but his muscles had been well-defined. Now, in place of the broad shoulders, chiseled abs and strong arms, there was a thin, flat torso, bony shoulders and skinny arms. Although his pajama bottoms prevented him from seeing his legs, he imagined they were just as skinny as his arms. He resisted the urge pull out the waistband of his pajama bottoms and see just how far Shippou's vengeance may have reached, for this must be what it was.

This was payback for centuries of abuse, or something like that. Why else would the kitsune be so happy to turn him into this . . . what some may call a 98-pound weakling? Yes, that is what he looked like. He looked like the kind of person that might have gotten sand kicked in his face in the playground, or from whom bullies stole lunch money. If someone like this had the right personality or brains, he would be able to hang with the cool crowd, doing either their homework or providing entertainment.

He stared back at the reflected face, raising his hand to the mirror, attempting to touch the face on the other side. He leaned in closer, trying to find his own face hidden beneath the illusion. But all he could see was the vague shadow of his true self. In the reflection, he saw Shippou and Miroku appear in the doorway behind him. Apparently, they had gotten over their laugh-fest at his expense.

"I hope you are enjoying yourselves." He stated in his now higher-pitched voice that he had no doubt might crack occasionally as if he were still trying to get through puberty.

"No need to be like that, Sesshoumaru. It's really a remarkable job. Shippou, you are the master of illusion." Miroku stated.

"Why thank you. I am quite proud of this piece of work, myself." Shippou gave a little bow.

"What was your inspiration?"

"Oh, I pulled a little from here and there. But I think Screech, and maybe Steve Urkel were the main two."

Miroku laughed a little at that. Sesshoumaru stepped away from the mirror and turned to face them. "I'm not doing this."

"Oh, come on, Sesshoumaru. Why not?"

"This is foolish."

"So what if it is? You don't look anything like yourself, so who would care if you do make a fool of yourself? It could be very liberating, if you think about it."

"Hn." Sesshoumaru had to admit that Miroku did a have point. Damn him.

"But you should slouch a bit. You're too tall." Shippou pointed out.

"I don't slouch."

"Yes, and you need different clothes. Plain ones that any normal person would wear. Not all of you designer stuff." Miroku added.

"Oh, yeah. We could really go into the geek look, then. Get him some high-waters to pull up to his arm-pits and some suspenders!" Shippou was truly evil at times.

Having had enough of his new persona for the time being, Sesshoumaru removed the bracelet binding the illusion and inspected it again.

"I think the medical alert bracelet stating that I am allergic to Tylenol should suffice."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Author's Note 2: Well, that whole discussion between Miroku and Sesshoumaru was very difficult to steer toward the idea of Sesshoumaru getting a job at the store. _

_I hope this chapter answered some questions about what I meant about Sesshoumaru posing as a geek. It's more his appearance that I was thinking about and not so much how he behaves (because when I first got this idea I was thinking about how different people may act when they are in different settings.) Then again, the two are closely tied when it comes to Sesshoumaru's personality. In his normal form, he exudes power and dominance, and he acts accordingly. In his new persona, his appearance is not going to have the same effect on people and he will have to learn to adjust. I imagine this resulting in some social awkwardness on his part. And truly, would we like Sesshoumaru's attitude so much if it didn't come in such a pretty package? I don't know if that made any sense. Maybe it will seem more clear as the story develops. _

_As far as Kagome's character . . . I haven't gotten all of those details sorted out yet. If I make her a miko, that could open up the story to a whole new set of possibilities that I don't know if I am prepared to handle. It all depends on what ideas I get._

_I may not post again for a while until I have everything worked out better. Hope you all enjoyed it._

_~CW_


	4. A Stranger in my Own Skin

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Inuyasha, Halo or any of the characters involved in either._

When Sesshoumaru had first agreed to this idea, it had been on a whim. Which just goes to show the dangers of following a whim, especially when it involved two creatures such as Miroku and Shippou. . .

After the initial shock of seeing his new alter-ego had worn off, Shippou talked him into trying it on again. For the purposes of working out some of the finer details, he had explained.

"I could do without the acne," Although it was just a light smattering, Sesshoumaru would have preferred to let his flawless complexion remain as such.

"But that's the best part!" Whined Shippou.

"I doubt it will take away from the over-all effect."

Shippou gave an irritated sigh. Did Sesshoumaru not appreciated a true work of art? Miroku interjected, "I still think you need to slouch a bit. Normal people don't always walk around with their backs so . . . ramrod straight."

"They do if they have a steel rod shoved up their butts," Grumbled Shippou. "I doubt he could slouch even if he wanted to."

"For that, you are going to remove the acne."

"Fine." Shippou huffed, "But I'll change the illusion to make it look like you slouch."

"I don't slouch."

"It's either that or I give you a huge Adam's Apple for that skinny neck."

"You'll do neither."

"Try and stop me."

Sesshoumaru cracked his knuckles, "You do realize I still have my youkai powers, even in this disguise?"

"If you don't like my work, go find someone else to provide you with a disguise. But you know you won't find anyone as good as me."

Not for the first time, Sesshoumaru wondered at what point he had lost control. And where did Shippou learn such arrogance? Whatever happened to the little kitsune that had been orphaned and taken in as a ward of the Western Lands? The little guy who used to hero-worship Sesshoumaru? Oh, yeah. Maybe that answers the arrogance question.

He let his shoulders drop a bit, watching his reflection. The image in the mirror looked more relaxed and less militant. He could live with that. It would take concentration to remember not to stand with perfect posture, but he could manage it. "You do not need to change the illusion's posture. Your work would undoubtedly make me look as if I should be swinging about in a belfry."

"It would not. We're going for the unnoticeable, not the grotesque." Shippou replied, offended.

"Well, now that's settled, perhaps we should take your new look out for a test run." Miroku suggested, getting impatient over the nit-picking.

"Why should I need a test run?" Sesshoumaru felt the feeling of foreboding return. What was there to test? He had a mirror. He could see what he looked like. No one should recognize him.

"You don't expect to just go out there in the world, acting as you always do?"

Actually, that was exactly what he had planned to do. And why not? There was nothing wrong with how he acted, especially for the purposes of this experiment. All he had to do was get a job and last out a month, at the least. No one said anything about changing his behavior.

"What is wrong with how I act?" His voice became threatening, a tone to which Miroku paid no heed.

"Well, for starters, you have a tendency to demand of others when most people ask. You use your position and power to get what you want. In this form," Miroku gestured toward the daiyoukai, "You're a nobody. Nobodies have to rely on personality and charm to get what they want. Those are two things that you have neglected to develop."

Ridiculous, he had a great personality and plenty of charm. "And who here is qualified to teach me such things?"

"Me, of course." Miroku beamed.

Sesshoumaru's tone turned skeptical, "Your form of charm includes grabbing women's asses and getting slapped for it. Do you suggest I do that?"

Miroku shrugged, "It's a good icebreaker."

"It's a lawsuit waiting to happen," Shippou added.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the end, Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 managed to convince him to go to the local mall and wander around as a regular, unnoticeable person. The experience was strange at first. The mall was crowded, being the most popular shopping area in the small city. To Sesshoumaru it was smelly and noisy, as well. Then again, most places were, as far as he was concerned. This was why he rarely did any of his own shopping.

When in his normal form, Sesshoumaru was accustomed to people giving him a wide berth, recognizing his importance and keeping out of his personal space. Now, no one noticed him, nor did they seem all too concerned if they got in his way, breached his personal space, or even bumped into him in the crowded walkway. It was both a relief and an irritation at the same time.

"You should try smiling a bit, Sesshoumaru," Idiot 1, also known as Miroku, suggested. "It's not like doing so will ruin your image."

Sesshoumaru cast an ineffectual glare at Miroku, but decided to test out his new persona's smile. He caught the eye of a marginally attractive, in his opinion, woman walking in the opposite direction. He smiled at her as she passed by. The woman gave him an "as-if" look and quickly altered her course to move herself away from the trio.

Sesshoumaru was surprised at the reaction. Normally, his smile could make women drool. Well, the illusion did its job. Now he could say that he was impressed with Idiot 2's work. As he mused over this development, he was distracted when a random shopper bumped into him.

"Excuse me. Sorry about that."

"Watch where you are going," Sesshoumaru snapped back.

"Jeez. I said I was sorry," The shopper stated. As he walked away, he mumbled "jackass."

Sesshoumaru stopped, unsure of how to react. That human had called him a jackass within his hearing range. No one did that that didn't live to regret it. Okay, maybe his father or Inuyasha. But no humans ever did.

He was about to follow the foolish human and teach him a little something about showing proper respect to his superiors, but Shippou's restraining hand stopped him. "Woah there, Killer. He apologized. Let it go."

"He called me a jackass."

"We've called you worse when you're not around," Miroku noted.

"You have the sense of preservation to avoid such comments around me."

"Sesshoumaru, you're going to have to learn to be nicer to people. Seem more friendly. Otherwise you won't make it past the interview."

"Interview?" People had to interview for jobs like these?

"Yes interview. What? Did you think you would just fill out an application and you would automatically work there?"

Sesshoumaru gave him a look as if to say, "Yes."

Miroku sighed, "How have you lived as long as you have and be clueless to such things?"

"I have had other concerns."

"What concerns? As long as I have known you, you lived at the office and in your study. Don't tell me you have spent all of your existence in much the same way."

"Nearly," Shippou answered for him. "He used to get out more, but that was usually to kill things."

"How very sad," Miroku replied. "Well, maybe all of this will change things."

"By all means, Miroku, hold your breath in hope," Sesshoumaru remarked as the other two led him into a clothing store. Another objective of this excursion was to obtain new clothes to fit the daiyoukai's new persona.

Something that Sesshoumaru was beginning to hate about his new appearance was that clothes did not seem to fit properly. They were either too baggy, making his skinny figure look even smaller, or too short. They did nothing to accentuate his better features, not that this new body had many to boast. Miroku and Shippou refused to let him wear tailor-made clothing because it didn't fit with the image of the twenty-something student worker that they were trying to create. They put him in a dressing room and shoved articles of clothing over the door for him to try on. All the while, Miroku would test him on interview questions.

"Now, Sesshoumaru, tell me a little about yourself," Miroku asked, mimicking a professional tone that an interviewer might use.

"I'm the eldest son and heir of the current ruler of the Western Lands of Japan. I am skilled in the art of torture and killing, but I do not get to practice so much these days because I have been forced to pretend to be a human, thanks to two of my idiot associates."

"Try to be serious," Miroku replied.

"We're not forcing you to do anything," Shippou added. "Admit it, you wouldn't put up with this for one second if some little part of you didn't want to do this. We're just giving you the tools to survive."

"Exactly," Miroku agreed.

"I can survive well enough without your so-called help."

"That's what you think. So, Sesshoumaru," Miroku returned to the official voice, "Why do you want to work at MegaMart?"

"I'm testing to see how little brain function I need before I become a vegetable." Was the derisive reply.

"You see. There you go with the negative. You need a more positive answer, like, 'I'm new to this country and I want to be in an environment that opens me up to American life,' or, 'I want to work in a fast-paced environment that requires me to develop my people skills.'"

Sesshoumaru came out of the dressing room, wearing the latest ensemble the duo had picked out, and gave Miroku a blank look, "That is the most idiotic answer I have ever heard."

"That's what interviewers want to hear. Believe me, I know. I used similar answers to get my job at Takashi Enterprises." He regarded Sesshoumaru's clothes, "Everything looks too big on you."

Sesshoumaru retreated into the dressing room, "It's the illusion. I am not physically smaller, so I must wear clothes of my normal size. I could wear smaller clothes, but then I would be uncomfortable. I'm sure you were hired for your credentials instead of your charming personality, alone."

"True, but that won't help you. What are you going to say when asked about your experience? That you're the heir and vice-president to a multi-billion dollar corporation and list a bunch of achievements under said position? That will lead back to the question of why you want to work there."

"And I'll refer to my previous answer," Sesshoumaru stepped out of the fitting room again.

"Ugh, Shippou, can you do something to bulk up his look a little, or make the clothes look like they fit?"

"I like it as it is. The poorly-fitting clothes give him that fashion-challenged look. Perfect for his image," Shippou was getting rather irritated with everyone wanting to change his work. "Give him a belt so it doesn't look like his pants will fall down and you're set."

Miroku sighed, "Fine." As he watched Sesshoumaru go back into the fitting room, he added, "I suppose I can give you a couple of stories from when I used to work these kinds of jobs. It will give you some credibility as far as your ability to do the job and work with others."

"I _can_ do the job and I do work with others."

"Not equals. They are all your employees who fear upsetting you and getting fired. Tell me, Sesshoumaru," he returned to the official voice, "one of your co-workers does something that you feel is offensive or inappropriate toward you. How do you handle it?"

"I decapitate him, rip out his entrails, and leave his remains to ripen for the vultures."

"If I didn't know you better, I would say that was an attempt at a joke," Miroku dead-panned.

"That was a joke," Shippou stated, "Normally he would use his poison. It wouldn't leave anything for the vultures."

Miroku sighed again, stepping away from the dressing area. He looked around the store, scanning the racks of clothing as he thought about the situation. Normally an optimist, he was beginning to think that this little plan was doomed to failure. His sight landed on a random woman here and there, watching their butts as they walked by. Nothing truly breath-taking, like Sango's firm backside.

As his eyes followed one woman, something else caught his interest. Standing on the edge of one of the women's clothing sections was a young woman who looked like Kagome. She was holding up a couple of blouses, showing them to an older woman sitting in a wheelchair. As he looked closer, he decided it was Kagome. Judging by the looks of the older woman, he guessed that she was a relative, probably her mother.

Miroku walked back to the dressing area, "Sesshoumaru, get dressed. We're finished here."

"We are?" Shippou asked.

Sesshoumaru stepped out of the dressing room, wearing his original clothes. "What is going on?" He asked.

"Follow me," Miroku answered as he walked away, heading for the women's clothing.

"Miroku, if you think I'm going to wear women's clothing . . ." Sesshoumaru began to state in a threatening tone. Really, there was such a thing as too much.

But Miroku was not paying attention, his focus being on other things. "Miss Kagome?" He asked as he approached the two women he saw moments before.

The young woman looked up at the sound of her name, not expecting to run into anyone she knew. Least of all did she expect to see three strange men walking her way. Two of them were kind of cute and flashed her friendly smiles, but she could not place either faces. The third, the tall, lanky one did not look so friendly. He had a kind of sour look on his face that made her want to redirect her attention to the man who was speaking to her.

"It _is_ you, Miss Kagome. What a pleasure running into you," Miroku flashed another smile.

Kagome hesitated, not able to place a name to the face, "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

"Of course you do. You sold me a TV a couple of days ago," Noting the still blank look on her face, he further elaborated. "I was with a friend – tall, white hair. He chased away another customer."

Recognition dawned and she smiled, "Oh, that's right. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you right away. I see so many faces every day, it all becomes a blur. Still, it's difficult to forget a six-foot, something albino."

Miroku laughed at her description of Sesshoumaru, ignoring said daiyoukai's glare that he could feel boring into the back of his head. "He does make an impression on people. I'm sorry about how he acted that day."

"Oh, it didn't bother me at all. I would have loved to do the same thing, but I probably would have gotten fired for such comments."

"Perhaps," Miroku nodded.

"Oh, excuse me. This is my mother, Sayuri Higurashi. Mom, this is . . ."

"Miroku Houshi," Miroku supplied, "And this is my friend Shippou Kitsune and . . . my cousin . . . Ichirou Houshi."

"Nice to meet you," Kagome and her mother stated and nodded to the other men in turn.

Shippou returned the warm greeting while "Ichirou" offered a curt nod.

"So, how are you enjoying your TV?" Kagome asked, feeling a little awkward trying to make small talk with the three men.

"Oh, it's great, though I don't get to enjoy it as much as I'd like to. Ichirou, here, has been staying with me and I can't get him away from it. He loves how Master Chief is almost life-size." He felt the glare intensify. Yep, he was going to pay for that later.

"So you're staying around here?" Kagome asked.

"Yes. I work for Takashi Enterprises. The company is rebuilding a manufacturing plant here."

"Oh, I heard about that. They say it will take months to finish, but it's going to open up hundreds of jobs for this area," Kagome's mother stated as her daughter nodded in agreement.

"Yes and I wouldn't mind spending my free time getting to know the area. Kagome, do you think the lovely Sango would like to show me around? I have been meaning to return to the store to try to meet up with her."

Kagome smiled, remembering Miroku's pick-up line, "That I couldn't say. She seemed to like you and it's a plus that you are going to be in town for some time."

"Maybe I will have to stop by the store then. Maybe we could double. Me and Sango, you and Sesshoumaru."

"Sesshoumaru?" Kagome asked.

"Yes, the . . . uh, albino," Miroku answered.

Kagome laughed nervously, "I'm sure he's more than capable of finding his own dates."

"Oh, he doesn't get out as much as he should," Miroku began. Then he felt Sesshoumaru step closer and discretely dig his claws into the back of his arm. They may look like dull, human fingernails, but under the illusion, they were still sharp . . . and poisonous. A little voice of wisdom told Miroku that it was time to go, "Well, maybe that's something we can work out later."

"Um . . . sure," Kagome seemed a little confused at the abrupt change, but brushed it off as the trio walked away. She got a strange feeling from Shippou and the other one . . . Ichirou. She also had the weirdest feeling that she had met him before. Oh, well. It would come to her later.

"They seemed nice," Kagome's mother stated.

"Yeah, I guess," she answered as they continued looking through the racks of clothing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The three of them walked toward the cash registers to check out. Sesshoumaru was thinking over the encounter with the salesgirl. He was surprised to find her less than thrilled over the idea of going out with Sesshoumaru Takashi. Really it's not like Miroku had suggested she go out with his new persona. Speaking of which . . .

"Ichirou?" Sesshoumaru questioned as they gathered their purchases and exited the store.

"I know. It was the best I could come up with at the moment," Miroku explained, disappointed in his own lack of inspiration.

"And what is wrong with Sesshoumaru?"

"Were you planning on using the name Sesshoumaru Takashi for your disguise? Oh, _that_ wouldn't cause any problems."

"Hn."

"Hey, be thankful. I almost named you Jaken."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kagome walked through the ranch-style house, carrying several dishes into the kitchen and deposited them in the sink. Remembering that she had yet to pick up the mail, she slipped on a pair of shoes and walked outside to the mailbox. She looked across the front lawn. It was starting to look a little unkempt. Really, it hadn't been that long since it was last mowed, but in this area, you couldn't turn your back on the lawn for one moment before it began to look like a jungle. It had been her plan to mow the lawn today, on one of her few, precious days off. But then, her mother wanted to go shopping.

No decision there. Aside from numerous doctor's appointments, her mother rarely got out of the house. Soon, she would be going into the hospital for surgery and would not be able to go out and about for at least a month afterward. Mind as well let her mother get out as much as she can now. Her father was not much for shopping, so he would have been of little use. So, it was left up to Kagome to chauffeur her mother from store to store.

Not that she minded. She enjoyed shopping with her mother. It brought a little sense of normalcy to an otherwise tense situation. Besides, she deserved to have a real day off once in a while, didn't she? Still, there was so much to be done around the house, and it seemed like there was more everyday.

She reached the mailbox and retrieved the letters. As she walked back up the driveway, she flipped through the letter, stopping when a particular address caught her eye. She opened the envelope, read the letter, and smiled. Here was something for her to look forward to.

_Author's Note: So there you have another installment. Not a lot of plot, but I thought it was funny and good preparation for Sesshoumaru. I also thought it would be funny to think of what kind of answers he might really want to give for some interview questions. Also, you got another glimpse at Kagome, and a hint of her story. I debated whether or not to include their meeting, and was not thrilled with how it turned out. But I think it helped with the plot. _

_Also, no hating over the Master Chief comment. It wasn't necessarily meant to poke fun at Sesshoumaru being a geek because he's a gamer, but more of a reference to the joys of playing video games on a big-screen TV . . . not that I would know, personally, since I don't have a big-screen TV. And it occurred to me that Sesshoumaru would be irritated over Miroku's suggestion that he would waste his time playing video games._

_In the next chapter, Sesshoumaru begins work. While I have several wonderful ideas for his torture, I am open to any ideas that you, my wonderful readers, may want to see happen. I appreciate all of your reviews._

_~CW_


	5. Well Trained Monkey

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Inuyasha, _Night at the Museum_, Bluetooth, Tag, Axe, Transformers, Tylenol and . . . what else did I mention . . . oh yeah, Heelys. Don't own them, either. You know what? From now on, I'll list the things I do own. It would be a shorter list._

He had been poisoned. Of this he was sure. It came as a great surprise. After all, he was a poison master, himself, and the substance flowing through his veins had a tendency to protect him from other poisons. In all of his existence, he had never come across a substance that could cause him harm. Until now.

Sesshoumaru lay on his couch in his darkened living room. One leg draped over the arm of the couch while his other foot rest on the floor. His left arm dangled limply off the edge of the couch. The bracelet used for his illusion lay on the floor next to his hand. His other arm was draped over his eyes to block out what little light there was in the room. His head was killing him and it seemed like every little irritant made the pain worse.

Yes, he was dying. He must be. If he wasn't, he certainly wished he were. As he lay there, waiting for his humiliating end, he thought over the events of the last few days that brought him to this point. . .

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Interview . . .

After the initial test-run of his disguise, Sesshoumaru and his tormentors returned to the apartment complex. Shippou took the be-spelled bracelet and disappeared, promising to return the next day with all of the adjustments in place. In the meantime, Miroku had further annoyed him by relaying many stories of his days working in one place or another.

He attempted to get Sesshoumaru to act more friendly. Even in his disguise, the daiyoukai was not what one would call . . . approachable. At one point, Miroku decided that Sesshoumaru simply did not have the acting abilities to carry off the personality of a customer-friendly salesperson. He suggested that when Sesshoumaru did apply at MegaMart, he should try for positions in the stock room or on the overnight stocking crew – positions that required minimal contact with customers. Sesshoumaru scoffed at the idea. He was fully confident in his abilities to work on the floor, be helpful to customers, and resist the urge to kill anyone. Besides, working in closed-off areas defeated the purpose of the experiment.

On the day that he did apply and interview with the human resources manager, Laura was the name she gave, he learned that Miroku may have been right about his behavior. The first few questions were the basic ones similar to the ones Miroku had asked. He had thought ahead about how to answer them. Perhaps that was why they seemed so rehearsed and he appeared so robotic in delivering them.

Laura did not seem all that thrilled with his unemotional responses. She expected to see someone who looked eager for a job, or someone who may have been nervous about the interview. The man before her acted as if he did not really want to be there and that he could care less whether he got a job or not. Probably some kid whose parents were forcing to get a job instead of sitting around all summer, doing nothing. Already, she was beginning to think that he would not fit in well in this atmosphere, but she continued on with the interview.

Sesshoumaru noted the expression and body language of his interviewer. He was skilled at determining what another person was thinking by observing the signs they unconsciously showed. He knew that he was not performing well in this interview. That would not do. Throughout his life, he had failed at nothing, and he was not about to start now, especially when he had barely begun this experiment. He had observed humans for centuries and had been posing as one ever since youkai went into hiding. He could change his behavior enough to convince this woman that he was capable of working here.

Thinking fast, Sesshoumaru tried to adapt a more nervous appearance – fidgeting with his hands, like he had seen humans do, and giving what he hoped looked like a nervous smile. Who ever said he couldn't act if he put his mind to it? This change in his behavior seemed to put Laura at ease. At least, now, she knew she was dealing with a person and not a statue. The next questions she asked were answered with more hesitation and did not sound so rehearsed.

When asked about his work experience, Sesshoumaru answered using some of Miroku's stories of when he worked at an amusement park and at a grocery store, showing that he knew how to be customer-service oriented. He may have looked like he wasn't listening to Miroku at times, but the fact of the matter was that his mind was like a sponge. He remembered what people tell him, even if it was not particularly interesting to him.

He was pleased to see that Laura seemed satisfied with his work experience. Especially the bit about working in an amusement park. Apparently it takes a whole different kind of person to deal with the hordes of vacationers who demand they get everything they want, including being allowed to take their three-year-old toddlers on a roller coaster. Working in retail is a cakewalk compared to that. What a pity that he did not actually have that experience.

"Tell me, Ichirou, if you have a problem with a co-worker, how do you handle it?"

After a moment of considering the question, Sesshoumaru, fidgeting a bit, replied, "Well that depends on the nature of the problem. If it is merely a personal issue that has nothing to do with work, I can ignore the problem and be civil and professional when working with this other person. If it is a problem directly related to work that I feel needs to be brought to the attention of a supervisor, I will do so."

Not as much fun as decapitation and disembowelment. Definitely not what he would have done in his own company, which might have involved firing said person and ensuring the only jobs that person could get involved wearing his or her name on a shirt. Oh, well hello, Irony, how nice to meet you.

Unaware of Sesshoumaru's thoughts, Laura nodded her head, appeased by the answer, "Have you had any problems with management in past jobs?"

A tricky question. "No real problems," he replied, knowing that this was the desired answer. "Sometimes I felt that my managers were not always on the same page, but they were very good at resolving such problems." Enough of the nervous rambling act. It was an act, right?

"Why did you leave your last job?"

"I left only so I could come to America to attend a university here." That was the story they had decided on. He was a young college student, spending the summer in the area before he started classes in the fall.

"Do you plan on staying with the company after classes start?"

"That would depend on whether or not I would be needed here." No need to tell her that he had no intention of staying with the job for more than a month.

Laura laughed, "Oh, believe me, the closer we get to the holidays, the more people we will need."

What had started off a little rocky turned into something more steady. Laura still seemed a little unsure about him, but offered him a job none the less. That was, of course, pending the obligatory background check and drug test. The background check he had been prepare for. The drug test was unexpected and would be the first of new experiences involved with working in retail. At least nothing was found that would be considered unusual or potentially illegal.

After a day of orientation, Sesshoumaru was given his first week's schedule, during which he would train with various other employees. He was officially in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

First Day . . .

His first day of training focused on cashiering. The task was fairly simple and, luckily, he had done enough business in the US that he was familiar with the monetary values of American currency. Another cashier had walked him through the process, telling him how to handle different situations. Naturally, he was a fast learner and it took only one explanation for him to catch on to any process.

That is, if it required any explanation at all. Most of it was common sense and the registers were set up so that even a three-year-old might be able to operate it. Maybe the little animated pictures on the screen were for the employees who had not yet learned English that well. Maybe they existed to make the operation of the register idiot-proof. Or maybe they had entertainment value for the cashier and the person who had created the program in the first place. Who knew?

After his initial training, the cashier went back to her own register, stating that he could ask for help any time. As if he would need any help for this task. And he made his thoughts on the subject quite clear. Perhaps he could have seemed a little more appreciative for the cashier's help, judging by her reaction to him. Oh, well.

So far, he had no complaints, except that it was extremely dull. There were times when business picked up, but for the most part, he stood around with nothing to do. Ideally, cashiers were supposed to spend their down time cleaning their conveyor belts and straightening up the candy and impulse-buy items that were located at their check-out lanes, but there were only so many times he could do that before there was just no more room for improvement. Besides, the spray cleaner the store provided irritated his nose.

Finally, it did get to a point in the day where there was a steady stream of people checking out. Even then, the process was monotonous. In an attempt to act the part of Friendly Cashier, he at least greeted the customers with a "Hello, how are you?"

Most of the time, they responded with friendly greetings of their own. Every once in a while, he became irritated with the people who would come through his line with cell phones plastered to their ears and didn't have the decency to put the conversations on hold while they finished their transactions. It was as if they were not even acknowledging his existence. As if he were too low in the social hierarchy to require any form of courtesy.

Didn't they know who he was? Oh, right. They didn't. But that shouldn't matter anyways. It's about having manners. Even one as powerful as himself had better manners toward people who were providing him with quality service.

It was an even worse shock the first time a customer came through, talking on a bluetooth ear piece. Sesshoumaru had not taken a close enough look at the man before starting to scan items.

"Can you repeat that?" He heard the man say.

"I didn't say anything." Sesshoumaru replied, looking up to see that the man was not even looking at him as he carried on a conversation with himself. Sesshoumaru immediately thought that the man was not only rude, but also crazy. Then he saw the little device on the man's ear and mentally cursed such inventions as the bluetooth headset and the cell phone. Cell phones are wonderful for emergencies, but is it necessary for people to carry on personal conversations in public? Strangers don't want to hear about that suspicious rash or the strange growth on Aunt Martha's foot. And really, why should anyone want to broadcast such things?

Such were the thoughts that ran through Sesshoumaru's head while he waited for the end of his shift. Fate, however, had decided that he would have one more encounter before the end of his day. Yes, he got to meet the Obnoxious Teenage Customer. Close to the end of his shift, a group of teenage girls came through his line. At least, he thought they were teenagers. It was difficult to tell because of the layers of make-up they had plastered on their faces. The clothes they were wearing seemed far too mature for them, also. And they didn't appear to have anything to purchase.

One of the girls grabbed a fifty cent packet of gum and whispered to the other girls, "Watch this."

She handed the gum to Sesshoumaru. After he scanned it and told her the total, she handed him a $100 bill. Now, he had no idea what possessed the girl to do this. Was she trying to show off her wealth, or more likely, Mommy and Daddy's wealth? Or did she think counting out the change would be a difficult task? Oh, he could make it difficult.

Without showing any kind of reaction to the girl's intended joke, Sesshoumaru took the proffered bill, opened the cash drawer and began counting out her change. He placed each bill in her outstretched hand, slowly and carefully. After a few moments, the girl realized what he was doing.

"Don't you have anything bigger than ones?" She asked, seeing her joke backfiring.

He feigned an apologetic tone, "No, sorry." He continued counting, "Oops, out of ones. Don't worry. I have plenty of quarters."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Second Day . . .

After being trained on the cash register, Sesshoumaru was passed off to another employee who would train him on the floor. This was where he would usually work. Every day, he may find himself in a different department, but he was expected to be flexible and help where ever help was needed.

By coincidence, although she didn't know it, Sango was his trainer on this day. She took him through the store, showing him where to get equipment and where to find other items he would sometimes need. She showed him what was expected of straightening up the aisles of merchandise and how to use the hand held devices that many of the employees carried.

It was a wonderful gadget that could give an item's location on the floor, in the stockroom, and state how many were in stock. It could perform a plethora of other functions, most of which he would never need to use. They were also very easy to use. That is, they were easy to use when they were actually working or didn't have a dead battery.

After all of this initial instruction and a listing of various company policies, Sango left Sesshoumaru to work in the furniture department, claiming that she would be back to check on him and if he needed any help, he should feel free to ask. He was beginning to feel that the MegaMart method of training was something like, "Can you swim? Show me." Then you get kicked into the deep end of a pool with a twenty-pound weight tied to your leg, which would be the hand held that refused to work. Only the strong ones are able to stay afloat and learn as they go. Sesshoumaru was sure that he would be one of the strong ones.

Or maybe it was just him. Sango did seem eager to get away from him. Okay, maybe he had not been acting like Mr. Sunshine, or anything like that, but he thought he had been pleasant enough. Maybe he had seemed a little condescending over the use of the hand held. Really, it wasn't that difficult to use and he had gotten a little annoyed with how slowly Sango was going over its use.

At any rate, Sesshoumaru stayed in his department for the rest of his shift. It was during this time that he began to understand the tougher aspects of this job. It wasn't just about straightening things here and there and answering customers' questions. It was about actually knowing some things and, in some cases, being able to read a customer's mind. As if he knew what a duvet cover was. And he had no idea if they carried a movie called _Monster Museum._

Though he hated to admit it, it was times like these that his radio was his best friend. Most of the time, several co-workers knew the answers to his questions, and he was amazed when he heard one girl respond that maybe the customer was looking for _Night at the Museum. _The customer's eyes lit up and exclaimed that that was exactly what he was looking for. How did she read the man's mind through a walkie-talkie?

Although he never asked the same question twice, he was beginning to fear that his co-workers viewed him as stupid for having to ask so many questions. That would have to change. He would make sure that he knew every little corner of the store and all of the products within it. And he would learn how to decipher what a customer was looking for when they, themselves, did not know what the item was. That one would be tricky.

Later in the day, he walked to the stockroom, passing by the cashier counter in the electronics department. There he saw Sango and Kagome chatting as Kagome struggled with a package of some sort. When he had passed out of their sight, he heard Sango whisper, "That's the new guy, Ichirou. Kind of looks like Ichabod Crane."

Kagome smiled benignly, "How's he doing so far?"

"Okay, I guess," Sango shrugged. "He gives off this weird vibe. Kind of a I'm-better-than-you-are feel. He seems quick enough, though. Probably some kind of super nerd that spends all of his time in front of a computer."

"Now that's not nice," Kagome stated. "You've known him for how long and you've already passed judgment?"

"I calls 'em as I sees 'em."

"Well, if he's some super nerd, do you think he would like working in electronics?"

"I don't know. Does anyone like working back here? The real question is, would customers like asking him for help?"

"I don't think they pay much attention to who helps them," Kagome answered with a distracted air. "I feel like I have met him before, but I can't remember where."

Sesshoumaru walked into the stockroom, not caring to hear any more of the conversation. If that is how he was perceived so far, he may have to work on his "people skills" as well. But then again, did it really matter? No one said anything about him having to make friends with people. He just had to stay with this job for a month. That was all.

He found the piece of furniture he had come to retrieve. Placing it on a flatbed cart, he began to push it toward the stockroom's exit. Somewhere farther down the great cave that was the stockroom, someone was climbing a ladder. The ladder shifted and the ear-piercing shriek of metal on metal echoed throughout the cavernous room. One would think that all of the cardboard boxes would have muffled the noise a little. Perhaps there is no muffling sounds of a pitch that high.

It took all of Sesshoumaru's will not to fall to his knees, cover his ears, and whimper like an injured puppy. As it was, he did wince at the pain the horrible sound had created and he left the room with one ear ringing as he tried to direct the cart through the store, running into the bottom shelves of several aisles in the process. And Kagome had controlled one of these monsters with one hand. All of the ones he used must be defective.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Today . . .

Alright, so he was beginning to gain a new perspective on the life of a MegaMart employee. It took more skill than just knowing where things were and such. It took someone with quick reflexes. For instance, he was beginning to believe that he was, somehow, a child magnet. So far today, four children had come barreling around a corner, or out of an aisle, and nearly ran into him. They would have if he had not been fast enough to avoid the collision. And, was it him, or did they all seem to be the perfect height that, had they run into him, their hard, little skulls might have caused some serious damage to one of his favorite parts of his anatomy? It didn't matter if you were youkai or human. If you were male, injuries like that hurt.

And don't even get him started on the kids rolling around on those stupid shoes with the wheels in the heels. Those things should be banned from all department stores. Yes, he could imagine that: _Sorry Ma'am, your son needs to leave those shoes at the door. Oops, no shoes, no service. Ma'am, you'll have to leave your son at the door, too._

He was only thankful none of them had nearly run into him . . . yet. A good-sized kid on wheels could get some real momentum going. Every once in a while, he thought about throwing something on the floor that would trip them up. Then again, he would probably get caught on camera. That is, unless he used his youkai speed. He had never tested to see if he could beat the speed of a camera. It was something to think about.

Another thing that was getting to him . . . he believed he was suffering from culture shock, or something of that nature. The people around here seemed overly friendly and comfortable with complete strangers. They could start up conversations with someone as if they were old friends, despite not knowing each other less than a minute ago. Maybe it was that Southern charm and hospitality he had heard mentioned. As far as he was concerned, they could keep it all to themselves. He was having enough trouble trying to understand the plethora of accents and dialects in this area of the country.

He had been straightening an aisle in toys when a woman approached him, lay a hand her hand on his arm to get his attention and said in a Southern drawl, "Excuse me, Sweetie. I wondered if you could tell me where the Transformers toys are."

Sesshoumaru was frozen in a state of shock. What issue was there to address first? That she had touched his person without his permission? Or that she had called him "Sweetie?" He couldn't think of a time when anyone called him "Sweetie." Not even his mother when he was a pup. He was anything but sweet. It did not fit his personality at all.

He began to speak in what was supposed to be a threatening tone, "Woman, remove your filthy hands from my person."

The woman drew back in surprise and was about to give an indignant reply when Kagome appeared at Sesshoumaru's side. He had not even noticed she was near.

"Hello, Ma'am. How are you today? Might I be able to help you?" She gave the woman a dazzling smile and spoke with her best I'm-a-sweet-country-girl accent, two oddly powerful weapons that disarmed the situation immediately.

The woman calmed a bit and glanced at Sesshoumaru, then back to Kagome, "Y-yes, I was looking for the Transformers toys."

"Oh, they're right down this way. I'll take you to them." As she led the woman a few aisles away, Sesshoumaru could hear her speaking, "You'll have to excuse my friend for his behavior. He has a terrible phobia of germs. Goes through a bottle of hand sanitizer a day."

"Well, if he's afraid of germs, why is he working here?"

"Part of his therapy. He's trying to conquer his fears."

"Oh, that poor dear."

Sesshoumaru sighed inwardly. What was worse? Being called "Sweetie" or "poor dear" because he was afraid of germs?

Kagome returned a few minutes later, slowly shaking her head as she regarded Ichirou. That could have turned out ugly. She was thankful she happened to be passing by at the right time to run damage control. Not that it should have mattered to her, but she did hate to see the new kids start out on the wrong foot. Telling a woman to remove her filthy hands would be a bad start if she ever saw one.

Besides, she had remembered where she had met Ichirou. He was Miroku's cousin, and new to this country, if she remembered correctly. Maybe he was unfamiliar with people in little towns like these. Maybe he was unfamiliar with the customs, as well. She felt a need to help the poor kid out.

"In the future, you should remember that you need to be nice to customers."

Sesshoumaru felt that he was justified in his earlier reaction, "She touched me and called me 'Sweetie.'"

Kagome shrugged, "That's the way people are around here. So long as it's nothing inappropriate, they don't mean anything by it. Just trying to be friendly. And when they start calling you 'Darlin'' and 'Baby Doll,' then you and I can compare stories." With that, she walked back to her department.

The rest of his shift passed with little event and soon it was time for him to leave. As he walked toward the break room, he cut through the health and beauty department. Maybe his mind was on other matters. Maybe there were too many scents masking the faint ones beginning to escape the deodorant aisle. He had no explanation for why he didn't sense it beforehand or why he didn't find it suspicious that a herd of children had just left the aisle.

In the end, why it happened didn't matter. What mattered was that as soon as he rounded the corner to walk into the aisle he was nearly knocked on his ass. The concentrated stench of a half dozen Tag and Axe scents lingered in the small space, sprayed too recently to have diffused into the air. He got a big whiff before clamping a hand over his nose and trying to breathe through his mouth. That didn't help. He could practically taste the stuff and it burned his throat. He pulled the collar of his shirt up to try to use it as a filter over his nose and mouth as he escaped the miasmal aisle. But the damage was already done.

And here he was . . . awaiting death. Oh what a humiliating way for the great Sesshoumaru to die. To think . . . humans actually spray that stuff on _themselves_. Madness. Sesshoumaru almost preferred humans' unwashed stench of centuries past compared that noxious vapor.

He stifled a groan as he heard his front door open and a light came on in the living room. Miroku had let himself in to update the daiyoukai on the latest developments with the plant, "Sesshoumaru? You here? I have some papers . . . what happened to you?"

"I've been poisoned."

A surprising answer, "With what?"

"Body spray."

"Oh," A knowing smile spread across Miroku's face. Yep, he had been there. "The headache will pass."

"Hn." Sesshoumaru didn't believe the headache would ever go away.

Miroku's smile grew wider as he feigned a concerned voice, "Would the well-trained monkey like a Tylenol?"

Sesshoumaru's response was to throw the first object he could reach at Miroku. Well . . . they were called throw pillows for a reason. He would be one of the few that could turn the fluffy bit of décor into a deadly, accurate projectile.

_Author's Note_: _Thank you all for your reviews, especially to Time On My Hands and dangitsesshoumaru, who offered some suggestions of what they wanted to happen to Sesshoumaru. Oh, I plan to make him run into a rude woman with children, though it may not be the same one he encountered before. Really, it would be inevitable. There are plenty of rude women with bratty children to go around. Sometimes they travel in packs. Heh, that makes me sound a little like a person on a nature documentary. Ooh, that gives me a whole new idea. **Starts humming the National Geographic theme song.** _

_And making a little girl cry? I like it. I'll see what I can do._

_An anonymous review (haha) had suggested making Sesshoumaru a checkout chick. Well, I had always intended to have him on a cash register at least once, but I think he will have enough problems without throwing gender confusion into the mix. And I don't think my brain could handle the extra confusion, either._

_Regarding Angelicatt's question of whether or not Sesshoumaru would know who Master Chief is . . . well, at first I would have said that you would have to live under a rock not to know the main character of an extremely popular video game. Then I thought better of it because I have run into a number of people who know next to nothing about Halo, or any other video games, for that matter. My own father would be on the top of that list. So let's just say, Miroku is a gamer and has a tendency to bore Sesshoumaru with details about the games he plays. Also, Sesshoumaru is not completely oblivious to modern technology, but Miroku's prattling about video games and electronics may become useful for Sesshoumaru in the future. As for other questions. They will be answered in later chapters._

_By the way, I believe a couple of readers would enjoy the benefit of a drawing of Sesshoumaru in disguise. Unfortunately, stick figures are about the extent of my drawing skills. If anyone feels inspired, I would love to see how you imagine Sesshoumaru, and I am sure others would love to see it, also. _

_And By the by, the bit with the girl at the cash register is based off an actual experience. A friend of mine did have a customer like that and he did count out her change in ones. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time._

_~CW _


	6. Frustrating Fathers and Evolution

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Inuyasha, Tag, Bakugan or Darwin Awards._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A ringing phone awakened Sesshoumaru. Although still recovering from the attack on his olfactory senses, his headache had not disappeared completely, and he did not want to be disturbed. What time was it anyways? The clock read 3 A.M.

Cursing to himself, he reached for the phone, "Someone had better be dead."

"Now is that any kind of greeting for your father?" The deep tones of his father's voice came through the phone.

Sesshoumaru sighed, "Did you need something, Father?"

"Just checking up on my eldest son."

Checking up? He was a 500-year-old youkai who had fought countless battles, both on the battlefield and in boardrooms. And his father was checking up on him? The old one was up to something.

"Everything is fine," He answered warily.

"That is good, Son," He sounded like he wanted to say something, but was trying to decide on the phrasing.

"What is it, Father?"

"Two things, actually. One, I have been in contact with a matchmaker."

Sesshoumaru repressed a growl. "Father, I had no idea you were looking for a new mate. You and Izayoi seemed so happy. She is well, correct?" Perhaps playing dumb would get him out of this.

"You know very well I am talking about a mate for you. The matchmaker already has several in mind." So much for the dumb act. Oh the best laid plans of mice and inuyoukai.

"We have been over this, Father. I have no need of a mate, nor do I want one. Should my mind change, I will do my own choosing."

"If left to your own devices, you'll never be mated or have an heir. I would like to leave this world having known my grandpups."

"Are you planning on leaving this world soon, Father?" The old dog had centuries ahead of him. Really, his kind could live for millennia as long as they did not suffer any fatal injuries – and there were not many fatal injuries for powerful youkai, such as Touga and Sesshoumaru.

He sighed, "No, but my point remains."

"For all you know, Inuyasha has fathered several pups. Why not pester him about finding a mate?"

"Because you are my eldest son and heir. Besides, Inuyasha is not ready for such commitments."

It was times like these that Sesshoumaru really hated Inuyasha. The hanyou had all the luck being born second and not having to bear all of this pressure to uphold the family legacy. "He is as old as I was when you started up with this mating nonsense for me . . . older."

"Yes, but you were more mature at that age than he is. Now stop being so difficult. You know your mother and I had a matchmaker."

"Yes. Look how that turned out. How is Mother?"

"Still a bitter old bitch. Not the best example, I suppose, but that does not mean things will turn out the same for you."

"I know they won't because I have no intention of going through with it."

"Damn it, Sesshoumaru, I'm being serious now." Touga barked through the phone, "You need to provide an heir and show that you have a stable family life."

"Like you?"

A growl was his answer.

"Father, you will not persist in this. What reason do I have for following your wishes?"

"I am your alpha."

"I could be my own alpha."

"You would give up your birthright? Or are you challenging me?"

Sesshoumaru paused. This is why he hated talking to his father when not fully awake. No, he would not give up his birthright. He had fought and worked beside his father to secure it and he was not going to throw it away so it could land in Inuyasha's incompetent hands. But he did not wish to challenge his father, either. Why that was, he could not be sure. Maybe there was some modicum of respect that he held for the old dog. Maybe Miroku was right and he was a masochist. Or maybe it was because if he did challenge his father and won, he would have forced the issue of mating and securing his legacy on himself. There was no way out of it, except to try to keep the old dog distracted with other things. The only problem was that, right now, he couldn't think of any distractions.

"No, I am not challenging you and Inuyasha is too incompetent to be your heir," His voice was resigned.

His father laughed, "That would be the second thing I wanted to talk to you about. I'm thinking about sending Inuyasha your way to let him watch how you run things."

Sesshoumaru felt his headache coming back, "And he can't shadow you because . . ."

"Well, I taught you everything you know about business." Sure. "So you training Inuyasha should be just as good. Besides it would be good for you two to start working together now, before I officially retire."

There it was. The attempt to get the brothers to bond. His father had been working on this ever since Inuyasha was born. One would think that after 300 years, he would give up. But it was not in his nature to admit defeat.

Sesshoumaru didn't like this idea one bit and it wasn't solely because spending more than five minutes with Inuyasha made him want to pound the hanyou's face into a brick wall. It would make his experiment a little difficult. What would the hanyou think if he found out Sesshoumaru was moonlighting at a retail store. And if he saw Sesshoumaru as Ichirou . . . he'd never hear the end of it.

"That would not be a good idea, Father."

"Nonsense. Of course it's a good idea. Inuyasha may arrive in a couple of weeks. I'll contact you later with more details about his trip . . . and about the matchmaker." He hung up before Sesshoumaru could start arguing against the matchmaker again.

Sesshoumaru dropped the phone and buried his face in his pillow. A couple of weeks. Perhaps he could work out a plan before then. But not now. His headache was back full force and it hurt to think. He glanced at the clock, deciding how many more hours of sleep he would be able to get in. He was not scheduled at the store today, but he was planning on making an appearance at his real job, just to let his employees know that he was still around. As he closed his eyes, he hoped that the next time he woke up, his headache would be gone and the conversation with his father would be just a Tag-induced nightmare.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her house was haunted and the ghosts were conspiring against her. That was her only explanation for why things always turned out to be so difficult when she tried to do any work.

First, it was the stupid lawnmower when she was mowing the front lawn. It had worked perfectly fine until she was almost done. She had, what, 15 square feet left? Then the lawn mower decided to die on her. There was no explanation for it. Gas, check. Oil, good. Nothing wrapped around the blade. Yet, the stupid thing wouldn't start and she nearly dislocated her shoulder while yanking on the pull string. Stupid machines. Wussy lawnmowers. When it was clear it would not work, she left it alone for the rest of the day out of fear that she would decide to attack it with a sledgehammer. Of course the next day, it started up without any problem and she was able to finish off the last, measly bit of yard.

Then today, as part of her renovation plans, Kagome decided to tackle the task of taking down a portion of chain-link fencing that was in the process of falling down on its own. Sounded easy enough. But, as usual, the Fates were against her. She thought she would be able to take down the chain-link parts by removing the brackets that held it to the posts. It would have been easy enough had she been able to find her socket wrench set.

So on to Plan B – the much more destructive, yet therapeutic, method of cutting the brackets. So she went in search of her hacksaw. She hadn't needed it in months. Not since she used it to cut some aluminum pipes that would serve as a quick, sturdy railing to help her mother walk up the back steps of her house. She knew there was no reason for the saw to be anywhere else except in the toolbox where she had left it. But it wasn't there and she began a search throughout the house.

After looking in several of the same places more than once, hoping she had overlooked it the first time, she called out, "Dad, have you seen my hacksaw?"

A tall man of about 65 came out of a room. "Did you call me?" At least he _had_ heard her call him.

The old man was practically deaf in one ear and didn't have great hearing in the other and he didn't have a hearing aid. It was a bone of contention between father and daughter that he wouldn't get one. He claimed that his health insurance company was putting him through a lot of red tape over it. She felt that he wasn't trying hard enough or that, deep down, he was resisting the idea that he needed one at all. And she could understand that it probably hurt his pride, or made him feel old to need such a device.

Nevertheless she hated talking to him because she either had to repeat herself three times before he heard her, or she had to yell during an entire conversation. Then he would complain that she didn't need to yell. Truly, she would have enjoyed being able to talk to him in a normal tone of voice. That way, if she did yell at him, it was because she was angry or irritated, and he had something to do with it. Like now.

"Have you seen my hacksaw?"

"I've seen a hacksaw," He hedged. "It's in my room. I was using it to saw through the hinges on the closet door."

A simple "yes" or "no" would have sufficed. And she didn't even want to begin to know why he needed a hacksaw for his closet door or why a screw driver couldn't do the job. The man had a horrible tendency to ramble, too.

He disappeared into his room and returned with the saw. Kagome took it and inspected the tool. She had the slightest suspicion that it was hers. Really, who else would have taken it? Her mom wasn't much of the handy-person type, especially these days. Buyo, her cat would be the only other being in the house and he didn't have any opposable thumbs. If it wasn't her dad, then that would mean the house really was haunted and the ghosts were screwing with her. As if she didn't have enough problems.

"Are you sure this isn't mine?" She narrowed her eyes at her father.

"That is my saw. It's been in my room for months."

"Months?" It had been months since she used it last.

"Yes," He answered confidently before walking back into his room, hoping to escape his daughter's wrath.

Kagome stared at the closed door. Sure, he could believe that it was his, especially if months had gone by. But Kagome didn't trust his memory any farther than she could throw the senile old man. She was only 5-foot, 4-inches, and highly doubted that she would be able to throw her 6-foot, 200-pound-plus father very far. Besides that, she knew he had made off with her work gloves and other tools several times.

She had no problem with him using the tools. It was the fact that he never put them back where he found them. Usually he couldn't remember where they went, despite Kagome's work to keep everything organized. So, the tools often ended up in his room, where _he_ was sure to find them when he needed them.

Buyo came into her peripheral vision as he walked down the hall, "He lies, Buyo." Kagome heard her mother in the study down the hall, laughing at the comment. Ignoring it, she continued talking to the cat, "The next time you see him near my tools, attack."

With that, she went back outside. Yeah, a whole lot of frustration was going to get worked out, especially when it came to taking down the fence posts. As she stepped into the hot, summer day, she made a mental note to search her father's room. If she found her wrenches in there . . . he would be in a lot of trouble. She just couldn't think of a decent punishment right now. Maybe taking away his computer.

When did it come to this? At times, she felt more like the parent than the child.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sesshoumaru was pleased to see that everything was running smoothly with construction and hiring procedures. Sure it had only been a few days since he had been at work, but a lot can go wrong in that short amount of time. Of course, he knew Miroku would keep him updated with any problems. It was this knowledge that made him feel a little less anxious when he returned to the store the next day to work his scheduled morning shift.

He had attempted to get Shippou to change his concealment spell to include something that would weaken his sense of smell and his hearing. He didn't want his senses to be as weak as a human's, but he hoped to avoid a repeat of the body spray incident. Miroku tried to tell him that changing his sense of smell would do him no good in that situation because the body spray had a way of burrowing into the sinuses and making one's head ache, whether one could smell it or not. He ignored it. There were a number of other smells he would like to avoid. And he would enjoy not being able to hear every little conversation held within the store's walls.

Overhearing his co-workers' mundane conversations was bad enough. Take now, for example. He was in the break room with a number of other associates. They were all waiting in a line to clock in for the same morning shift. One woman, Maria may have been her name, was talking to Kagome.

"I had the craziest woman at the fitting room yesterday," Maria was explaining. "She gets this call on her cell phone . . . and you know how terrible cell phone reception is in this building. Well apparently, this phone call is so important that she needs to go outside to make sure she doesn't lose it and she asks me to watch her daughter for her while she is away. As if I am some kind of baby sitter."

Kagome shook her head, "And we're not supposed to do that."

"I know. But I ask you, what kind of parent goes up to a stranger and asks them to watch their kid? She didn't know anything about me. I could be a drug addict, a serial killer, or a kidnapper."

"I suppose she didn't think that of you. Plus, you're a woman. She probably felt safe asking a woman to do it, thinking all woman have inherent, motherly instincts."

"Well, that's just stupid . . . and sexist."

"So, what did you do?"

"Told her no, and she got upset and left, saying that she was going to complain to the manager."

Kagome laughed, "I'm sure that went over well." She affected a different voice, trying to imitate one of the managers, "Ma'am, we're a department store, not a daycare center."

"You wouldn't know it, judging by the number of children you see running around the store without their parents."

At this point, Sesshoumaru had clocked in and left the room to begin another day's work, glad to get away from his babbling co-workers.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that day, Sesshoumaru was walking through the sporting goods department when he heard a high-pitched whistling coming from the general vicinity of the toy section. Certainly, it wasn't the most painful of sounds that he had encountered so far, but the pitch was almost to the level of sounding like a dog-whistle and its persistence was quite annoying. He walked toward the area, scanning each aisle as he passed, searching for the source. The acoustics of the building and the interference of the aisles of tall shelves allowed for some interesting effects in how sounds traveled in the store.

He stopped in his search when he saw Kagome on one of the toy aisles, straightening the hundreds of Bakugan toys. A futile effort, she knew, because no more than five minutes after she left the aisle, it would return to it's previous state of chaos. It was the way of things when it came to the toy department. It was like trying to keep a five-year-old's room tidy, only ten times worse. Yet, Kagome persisted because shopper traffic was slow and she had little else to do with her time. And any worker will tell you that if you don't have any work to do, find something to look busy before your boss comes around and gives you something to do.

Sesshoumaru regarded Kagome for a moment, wondering how that noise wasn't driving her insane. He had had his hearing dulled to the point that it was marginally better than human hearing and it was still aggravating to him. Surely, the noise was just as bad for her, unless she had a hearing problem. Then again, she seemed to be in a kind of daze as she worked. Maybe there was something else wrong with her.

"What is that horrible whistling sound?" Sesshoumaru questioned.

Kagome came out of her trance and looked at Sesshoumaru questioningly, "What was that?"

"I asked what that horrible whistling is." He hated repeating himself.

Kagome listened to the various sounds of the store for a moment, "Oh, it's a little kid blowing on one of those train whistles, recorders, whatever it is. They're out in the open and don't have any packaging, so anyone can pick it up and start playing with it."

Whose brilliant idea was that? He would have to find out and punish that person. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Yes, but I manage to tune it out most of the time."

"Why don't you take it away from the kid?"

"Well, I _could_ do that, but then some angered mother will complain about how I was mean to her child. Not to mention that there always seems to be some little kid playing with those things. We would have to post a permanent guard to keep them away. It would be easier if we stopped selling them altogether, but that isn't going to happen. I don't know why, though. It doesn't seem like anyone ever buys them."

"I see," Sesshoumaru was not entirely convinced with this excuse.

Kagome began speaking again as another thought hit her, "When you think about it, it's fascinating, really."

"It's a hollow piece of wood with holes in it. Air goes through it, sound comes out. Not very fascinating."

"Not that," Kagome paused in her work to look at him with a thoughtful expression. "I find it fascinating how human beings seem to have removed themselves from the evolutionary . . . coil, if that would be the right phrase for it."

Sesshoumaru stared at her in silence, expecting her to explain this great leap from a discussion of train whistles to evolutionary theory.

"Think about it," she continued, "As I understand Darwin's theory, evolution occurs when certain genes best fitted for an environment are passed from generation to generation, sometimes leading to noticeable changes in appearance. Sometimes it leads to a whole new species. Naturally, the genes not so well-suited become recessive or disappear altogether.

"This is a weak example, but take that kid blowing on the whistle. A whistle, mind you, that has likely been in the mouths of dozens of other people, dropped on the floor, and Goodness knows what else. This is not just a child's lack of awareness, this is genetics at work. Where is the parent to stop the child from putting strange things in its mouth? Why hasn't the parent taught the child not to put strange things in its mouth, especially during times like this? There's a Swine Flu epidemic going on. People have died from it. And it's likely that the parent is just as clueless as the child. It's sad.

"Millions of years ago, if some little Australophithecus or Homo habilius showed that kind of stupidity, it would be the first to get eaten by the saber-tooth tiger. The Homo habilius probably would have stuck himself in the foot with his spear in the process. But in the end, the stupidity genes of that particular being would be removed from the gene pool.

"But not today. No. If that little kid gets sick, the miracle of modern medicine will probably keep him alive. Despite Nature's attempt to weed out the weak, humanity will ensure that child will grow up and produce his own offspring. Thus keeping the stupidity genes in the gene pool."

Kagome finished her rant and stood with her hands on her hips, looking at Sesshoumaru as if expecting him to try to argue with her. He had to admit, she did have a point about some children's survival instinct, or lack thereof. He recalled an incident where he had been pushing a cart when a toddler suddenly appeared around the corner of an aisle. If he did not have such quick reflexes, he might have hit the child. The impact might have hurt, but it would not have caused any permanent damage to the child. The little boy's father, or grandfather, judging by his age, was at the other end of the aisle, not very concerned that the boy had wandered too far. He had seen what had happened and only said, "Yeah, he likes to walk around a little." Sesshoumaru couldn't help wondering if that is what the man would say the day a car hit the child while he was walking around in the middle of the street.

Then there are the numerous children he had seen standing up in shopping carts, leaning over the sides to reach for something. He wondered how many children had fallen out of those carts while their parents stood by, oblivious. That hard, tile floor can cause a lot of damage to a little skull.

Thinking over the impromptu lecture, he replied, "If the so-called 'stupidity genes' were removed millions of years ago, how would they still be present today?"

Kagome waved off the question, "It's probably a recessive gene that managed to survive through the millennia without manifesting itself, unless paired with another recessive stupidity gene. Of course, the more carriers, the greater the chances of it showing up in more people."

As good an answer as any for this bizarre conversation, "And your observation of evolution . . . do you study biological sciences?"

"Nope, this is all based off high school biology and the Darwin Awards."

"The Darwin Awards?"

"Yeah. You've never heard of them? They're stories of people who have either removed themselves from the gene pool, or came very close to doing so, through one stupid act or another. Some are just myths, though."

Sesshoumaru nodded, making a note that, maybe, he should read these stories. The whistling reached a new intensity and Sesshoumaru decided that he needed to act.

"What time is it?"

Kagome looked at her watch, "12:30."

"Oh good, it's time for my lunch break." He headed to the break room to punch out for lunch. He pulled off his work shirt, leaving on the T-shirt underneath. Another thing he had learned in his first few days was not to wander the store on his breaks while still wearing a name tag, or his work clothes. Most employees wore undershirts or had light jackets to cover up the work clothes. It wasn't that it was against the rules to shop in their work clothes, it was just easier to get through the store without being hassled. Most shoppers don't seem to pay attention to faces, an open jacket, a lack of name tag, or a purse slung over a shoulder. But if they see a work uniform, they try to get help from it.

As he walked back to the toy department, he grabbed a hand basket. He approached the aisle with the train whistles and, with a single swipe of his arm, pushed all of the ones on the shelf into the basket. Still, he could hear a whistle somewhere in the store. He followed the sound, and found the culprit in one of the bedding aisles. A little girl, trailing after he mother, was blowing on the whistle incessantly.

He paused, considering how to approach the girl. People these days are so anxious when it comes to strangers approaching their children. Then again, he was in disguise. He wouldn't wake up the next morning to read headlines like, "Business Mogul Attempts Child Molestation at Department Store." Of course not. Ichirou would get the blame, and he didn't really exist. And he wasn't planning on any kind of molestation, anyways.

Mind made up, he approached the pair. The mother was completely oblivious to the danger approaching. Not many humans are aware of the dangerous predators that pose as one of them on a daily basis. Sesshoumaru thought over Kagome's words. Saber-tooth tiger food. Yes, that sounded right. He regarded the annoying girl for a moment.

"Give me that," He snatched the whistle from the little girl's hands.

"Hey that's mine!" She whined. When her protest went unheeded, she resorted to the course of action that she knew to be tried and true for getting what she wanted. She started crying.

The mother looked around to see what was distressing her daughter, "What do you think you are doing?"

Sesshoumaru barely glanced at the woman, "Ridding myself of this annoyance." He snapped the whistle in two. The little girl began to cry in earnest over the loss of her toy. The mother was enraged. Neither paid any attention to the fact that the whistle had been made out of a sturdy wood that should not have broken so easily.

"How dare you . . ." The woman began.

"Although it goes against my better judgment, I'm doing your daughter a favor, Ma'am, . Or did you intend for her to contract any number of illnesses from playing with this?" He held up the broken toy, "I suppose you let her play in traffic, too?"

The woman was stunned as he walked away. Hopefully, she would not realize that he was an employee and cause him any trouble. He would hate to get fired before his month was up. Then again, it would have been worth it.

When he was a few aisles away, he realized he had nothing to worry about. He heard the mother scolding the child, "Melissa stop crying! What have I told you about putting strange things in your mouth?"

"Don't."

"Right. Now stop crying, or we will leave right now."

Sesshoumaru smiled to himself as he made his way toward the cashiering area in electronics. He was beginning to like the idea of wearing this . . . mask. To be able to do things that, as Sesshoumaru Takashi, he would not be able to do. He could act completely different from the stoic businessman that everyone knew. It was liberating. He passed Kagome on the way, "Kagome, could you check me out, please." This little adventure had put him in a good mood that would last him the rest of the day.

Kagome walked to the register, giving him a perplexed look, "What has you so happy?"

He placed the basket of whistles on the counter and Kagome smiled. "Buying them all, huh?" She asked.

"I am," Sesshoumaru replied smugly.

She scanned one of the whistles, "There are eleven here?" She counted again to make sure.

"Twelve," Sesshoumaru set the broken whistle on the counter.

Kagome's eyebrows raised in surprise, "Anyone ever suggest you have anger issues?"

"Once or twice." Miroku had pointed it out a couple of times.

"You know this is just a temporary solution. We will get more whistles in. You'll go broke if you keep buying them."

"True, but I won't have to hear from this annoyance for the rest of the day, at least."

Kagome laughed a delighted and somewhat evil laugh, "Spoken like a true newbie. Another annoyance will replace it, and it may be worse than the whistle."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Author's Note: So here's the latest update. I'm not sure if I am happy with it. I kind of like how it is set up, but then, I feel that I should have had other events before this. I don't know. All I can say is don't think that Sesshoumaru is changing just because he can carry on a civil conversation with Kagome. He still has little respect for anyone. Others still think he's a jerk, and I am working to come up with situations to illustrate that fact. It is just part of Kagome's personality that she can get along with almost anyone. _

_I'm glad everyone got a kick out of the body spray incident. With a lot of the situations in this story, it has been my aim to give the reader a "been there" feeling. Apparently, I succeeded. _

_For those who were wondering, this story is set in North Carolina. I hadn't made it clear in the story yet, but will likely make a reference to it at some point. I figured I'd stick with the state I know best._

_Thank you all for your reviews. I appreciate every one of them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time._

_~CW_


	7. Of Beer and Boredom

_**Disclaimer:**__ If it's a well-known name or brand, I do not own it._

Kagome had been right about a new annoyance taking the place of the whistles. There had to be a name for this phenomenon. Something like: the Law of Conservation of Pointless and Noisy Toys, which states that an annoying toy can not be created or destroyed . . . only changed into something else. Case in point, Sesshoumaru now hated every Disney "singing sensation" and the many different toys that played their songs . . . over and over again. Didn't their batteries ever die?

The stupid things managed to migrate all over the store, as if someone were standing at the store's entrance, passing them out like candy to every little boy and girl. Naturally, the mother load of these toys was in the toy department. Which was where Sesshoumaru had been assigned today. To make matters worse, there was the constant noise of the televisions and stereos from the nearby electronics department. At least the stereos could pick up local radio stations. The televisions, on the other hand, only played the same five-minute loop. One of the snippets of that loop played a song from the latest album of yet another Disney "singing sensation." It was enough to drive one insane. At least he could break away from the area once in a while to help in other areas of the store.

"Can I get help with a spill in grocery? Beer aisle." A voice asked over the walkie.

If it meant a momentary escape from noisy toys and children begging for said toys, Sesshoumaru was more than willing to help. He spoke into his own walkie, "I'm nearby. What do you need?"

"A trash can, broom, and a lot of the absorbing powder."

Sesshoumaru went to the stock room to retrieve the supplies from the cleaning closet. When he reached the designated aisle and saw the spill that Sango was guarding, he questioned whether or not this would be worse than staying in Toys.

It was a spilled six-pack of one of those flavored beverages that, despite its claim to have an alcohol content equivalent to beer, had the same effect as sugar water. It was an impressive spill, too, spanning the entire width of the aisle and running at least half of its length. To add to the fun, and their potential for injury, broken glass was sprinkled throughout the mess. Two lines of liquid came out of the largest puddle, signifying that at least one person had driven a cart through it. Most likely it was the person who had dropped the six pack in the first place.

"Great," Sesshoumaru remarked sarcastically as he set the trash can and broom down and stepped carefully around the outer edges of the spill while handing Sango one of the packages of absorbent.

"Thanks," Sango replied as she took the proffered package and surveyed the mess, trying to determine the best approach to clean it up.

Sesshoumaru noted the soaked box that had contained the glass bottles. A grape-flavored drink. That explained the smell of artificial grape flavoring that permeated the air. But there was the hint of something else. He bent down to pick up a bottle cap that was still attached to the broken bottle neck, "The box claims the drink is grape-flavored, but this one is raspberry."

Sango shrugged, "People like to mix and match. They're not too concerned over the fact that others may want a full six-pack of the same flavor."

After a moment's thought, she spoke about the spill, "You just gotta love people. I was in the main aisle when I heard the crash. Then I saw a woman walk out of this aisle as if nothing had happened. Didn't bother to stop to tell me or anything."

"Maybe she thought you already knew, since you were close enough to hear the crash," Sesshoumaru suggested, but not really believing that theory himself. It wasn't uncommon for customers to walk away from a mess they had made and not bother to inform a clerk about it. He had heard rumors of the "concerned customers," who would have the decency to let associates know about the potential safety hazards they had caused, but he was sure they were just a myth.

"Sure." Sango replied skeptically as she ripped open her package. An unpleasant chemical scent mixed with the grape aroma as she sprinkled the sawdust-like powder around the outer edges of the spill. "I bet she wanted to come back and pretend to get injured so she could sue the store. I saw something like that on the news, once. A woman went to a mom-and-pop grocery store, went to the cooking aisle, poured some vegetable oil on the floor, and left the bottle lying on the floor to look like it had fallen off the shelf. She left the aisle, came back a couple of minutes later, and 'slipped' in the puddle. What she didn't know was that the owner had recently installed security cameras and saw everything she had done."

Sesshoumaru nodded his understanding. He wouldn't put such actions past some people. And he had no doubt that some people looked at large retail chains and thought about all of the money they could leach out of them. But would they really try something so stupid, knowing that there were security cameras posted everywhere? He ripped open his own package of the absorbent and began sprinkling the substance over the larger puddles, where it instantly turned into mush. He hoped the four packages he had brought would be enough.

Sango knelt at the edge of the spill, grabbed the small broom, and began to sweep the powder toward the center, where the largest concentration of liquid was. After a couple of moments, she stood again. "I think we will need another broom and some spray cleaner. I'll be back in a minute." She walked out of the aisle.

Sesshoumaru, having emptied the other packages of powder, knelt on the floor to take up Sango's task. He realized too late that his knee landed in a smaller puddle. And was that a piece of glass digging into his knee? Yes, it was. It felt like it may have broken through to his skin. For him, this injury ranked as something far below minor . . . a mosquito bite. He would heal as soon as he removed the glass, but he would be left with a hole in his slacks and a bloodstain that would most likely draw attention. That was in addition to the fact that he would smell like grapes for the rest of the day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At about the same time that Sesshoumaru and Sango were dealing with the mess, Miroku walked into the store. He had been meaning to make a return visit for the past week, the image of the lovely Sango still burned into his mind. But certain events had prevented him from doing so. More specifically, he had been recovering from a throw-pillow-related injury. Who knew those things could be thrown so _hard?_

For two days he had been sporting a swollen nose with slightly darkened eyes. When he talked, he sounded like he had a cold. People at work assumed that he did have a cold and had a tendency to avoid him in fear of getting sick. He preferred to let them believe whatever they wanted – it was less embarrassing than the truth. While in this condition, he decided that he would not attempt to contact Sango. He wanted to look his best and be his most suave when he tried to finagle her into a date. He hoped she was working today.

He headed back to the same department where he had first met her. Instead, he found the equally-lovely Kagome, helping a woman with the digital cameras. He stood nearby, watching their interaction. It seemed the woman was looking for a camera so she could take pictures of her two-year-old son.

"I need something that has a about a 10-times zoom and a short delay, so I don't miss any photo ops," the woman was explaining. She motioned to her son, who was quietly sitting in a cart, eating cereal out of a snack bag. "Usually, he's running all over the place. I try to take a picture, and the camera is so slow it doesn't take the picture until a couple of seconds later. By then, he's not even in the frame anymore."

Kagome was smiling at the woman and her son, enjoying the woman's energetic and friendly manner. She directed the young mother to some of the cameras that best fit the features she wanted. The woman picked out one of the cameras Kagome had suggested and aimed it at her son to see how quick the shutter snapped. Then she pulled him out of the cart. Setting him on the ground, she told him to do something so she could try an action shot. Naturally, the little boy did not cooperate, and stood still, staring at his mother as if she were insane. It probably didn't help the little boy's opinion when his mother started to move the camera up and down in an attempt to simulate an action shot. She seemed pleased with the results, but looked at some of the other cameras before making a decision.

Meanwhile, the little boy decided to walk the few feet across the main aisle, heading for a bin of giant beach balls. His movements distracted the mother and she stopped looking at the cameras to see what he was doing. When it was obvious the little boy was too short to reach any of the beach balls, she called him back. As he toddled back, he noticed a piece of candy that someone had dropped on the floor.

He picked up the candy and raised it to his mouth, but stopped because of his mother's protests, "No, no. Don't eat that! It's dirty!."

After a moment, he set the piece of candy back on the floor, looking at his mother as if to say, "I didn't want to eat it, anyways."

This little action caused both the woman and Kagome to laugh before returning to the previous discussion of cameras. The woman looked over the few cameras that had the features she wanted, while discussing the luck she had had with the different brands and what she had heard from customer reviews. After some consideration, she chose the first camera.

After Kagome checked her out and wished her a good day, Miroku approached her, "Good afternoon, Kagome."

She looked up and smiled at the familiar face, "Hi, Miroku. How are you, today?"

"I'm doing well. And you?"

"I'm fine. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is," He took on a serious tone that reminded Kagome of her first encounter with this charismatic person.

"If you're going to ask me to bear your children, sorry, I've already promised to bear someone else's children," She joked.

Miroku laughed at the jab to his favorite pick-up line, "No, it's not that. I was just wondering if Sango was working today."

Kagome smiled, "She is. She's in the grocery department right now. In the beer aisle."

"Thank you, Kagome," He walked toward the designated area, formulating how he would go about getting a date with Sango. As he rounded the corner to enter the aisle, he stopped dead in his tracks. There before him was Sango, on her hands and knees, the fabric of her khaki slacks drawn taut over her firm rear, as she wiped up some of the sticky residue from the spill. So entranced was he that Miroku didn't even notice the other presence in the aisle. That was until said presence cleared his throat.

"Shouldn't you be at work, Miroku?"

Miroku looked over at the speaker and was torn between which sight gave him more enjoyment – Sango's firm ass, or his boss and friend, Sesshoumaru, on his knees, one knee clearly wet, sweeping up sawdust and broken glass. To see the stoic, immaculate daiyoukai doing something so domestic and looking not-so-immaculate was priceless, even if he was disguised as Ichirou.

Sesshoumaru was giving him a look that said, "Go ahead, say something." It took all of his will power not to laugh or make any kind of comment – that way death lay.

Recalling Sesshoumaru's question, he replied, "I'm taking a long lunch. So what happened here?"

"What does it look like?" Sesshoumaru snapped.

At the mention of Miroku's name, Sango had sat up in a kneeling position and turned around to look at their visitor, "You two know each other?" Immediately, she felt a little silly for asking a question with such an obvious answer and hoped Ichirou wouldn't make a snide comment over it – as he had a tendency to do to anyone who asked such questions – to further add to her embarrassment.

Thankfully, Miroku answered before Ichirou could say anything, "Yes, Ichirou and I are cousins." He explained.

Sango looked at each of the two men. It seemed an odd coincidence to her that they would even know each other, much less be related. But she guessed she had seen stranger things in the past, "I see. Well, is there something you needed, or are you here to see Ichirou?"

"Actually, I am here to see you, Sango."

Sango smiled nervously and blushed a little. She had thought Miroku was cute the first time she met him. It wasn't just the well-tailored suit fitting over his athletic build, or the stylishly messy cut of his short, dark hair. He had a charming smile to go along with his personality and eyes that showed kindness and a hint of mischief. That was what had drawn her to him that day, instead of his very attractive friend. Compared to the tall, pale man, Miroku seemed so warm and charismatic. Then again, a rock would have seemed warm and charismatic when compared to the other guy. If she really thought about it, Ichirou reminded her a bit of that man . . . but that was besides the point.

"You are?" She asked. "What about?"

"Well, I was hoping that you would be free for dinner tonight."

"Oh, well, I . . ." Sango was a little overwhelmed by the idea that Miroku had come to the store just to ask her out.

Miroku noticed her hesitancy and tried to offer a suggestion that might make her feel a little more comfortable, "Perhaps we could go out as a group. I can bring Ichirou along, and you could bring a friend. Maybe Kagome."

Sesshoumaru made a point of noisily dumping a dustpan full of sawdust and glass into the trashcan. "I won't be available," He replied coolly. Was there some kind of conspiracy going on? Why, all of a sudden, was everyone out to meddle in his life? Why was Miroku so insistent on this girl? Maybe Miroku was plotting something with his father.

"That's fine," Miroku replied with a grin. "I'll rope Sesshoumaru into it."

Sesshoumaru remained silent, not wanting to contradict Miroku on "Sesshoumaru's" opinion of the matter while in the presence of someone who was not privy to the details of the situation.

"Well, I don't think Kagome would want to go, either. She never goes out when the others invite her out after work."

"Why is that?" Miroku asked.

"I don't know. She always gives excuses like . . . she has to work early the next day, or she has a lot of work to do at home. Stuff like that."

"What work does she have to do?"

Sango shrugged, "House repairs, or something. She doesn't talk about her home life much."

This little bit of mystery about the girl who seemed to be one of the few intelligent beings at this store piqued Sesshoumaru's interest, but he wasn't going to let Miroku know that.

"Well, in that case," Miroku got back to the subject. "Maybe I could take you out to lunch, instead?" A good idea. A meal during the day. She would go back to work afterwards. All perfectly innocent.

Sango smiled at his persistence, "It is about time for my lunch break. I guess we could grab something at the burger place across the street."

She and Sesshoumaru finished cleaning up the mess. Sesshoumaru gathered up the trashcan and cleaning supplies.

Miroku noticed the wet spot on Sesshoumaru's knee, "It seems that you are bleeding, Ichirou."

Sango looked at his knee, "Are you alright? You should get that cleaned."

"It's just a scratch," Sesshoumaru made a mental note to remove the piece of glass embedded in his skin.

"But it could get infected."

"I'm sure the alcohol killed any germs," As if he would get an infection of any kind. He started to carry the cleaning supplies back to the stock room.

"I can help take that back," Sango offered, but Sesshoumaru waved her off.

"Take your lunch," An almost kind gesture, if it weren't for his tone of voice that made him sound like he were giving an order. Being kind was the furthest thing from Sesshoumaru's mind. He had decided that if Miroku were occupied with work and going out with Sango, that would be one less person to meddle in his personal life.

He returned the cleaning supplies to their closet and left the stock room, passing through the electronics department as he went. A woman stopped him, "Excuse me, I would like to get an Xbox 360."

Knowing that the item was locked up, Sesshoumaru called for an associate with keys to the case, and heard Kagome respond.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

If it was possible to die of boredom, Kagome was pretty sure that she was at Death's door. Daytime shifts were always the worst. Sure, there were the sudden waves of shoppers at times, but they were few and far between. During the downtime, Kagome had no work to do. The inactivity was unbearable. She would try to find projects to work on, or just straighten up her area, but that could only do so much.

After her encounter with Miroku, Kagome leaned back against the cashier's counter, trying to decide what to do. She was about to get into a staring contest with an elephant plush toy that was perched on top of one of the registers. He, she had decided the toy was a he, was the Electronics mascot for today. It seemed everyday a toy would find its way to the this counter and hang around as if it was _the_ place to be. She stopped herself before she got too involved in staring the contest, knowing that she would lose. Besides, she needed to do something that made her look productive.

She wandered the aisles, straightening items that didn't need straightening and shopping for items that she didn't need. That was one of the dangers of working in retail. There were so many items that caught her interest. Working in the electronics department was even more dangerous. She had been studying the televisions for some time now, trying to decide which would be the best to go in her parents' living room. And a PS3 was looking pretty good, too. She resisted the temptation, though. She didn't need any of these things. She could stand to wait until she had paid off other bills and had saved up some money.

A teenage girl approached her, wanting to get a pair of headphones. They were an expensive pair that were kept on a locking peg. Kagome handed the girl the headphones to let her look at them, then stood to the side while the girl and her mother deliberated over them. The girl wanted the headphones because of the cool graphics on them. The mother wanted her to get a different pair that were more practical. When looked to for advice, Kagome only stated that both sets were high quality. She didn't want to get involved in this argument.

After further discussion, the girl declared that she would buy the headphones herself and began to count out how much money she had. Kagome, tried to ignore the conversation, but she couldn't help paying attention when the girl started explaining to her mother where she had gotten the money.

"Dad gave me this twenty. I stole this ten from my mo- . . . I mean . . . Lisa."

Kagome suddenly felt very awkward for having to witness this, but rules were rules. She wasn't supposed to leave unlocked, high-priced items with customers until they had paid for them.

"Oh, she's your mom, now?" The mother asked, then turned to Kagome, "Now she's calling a twenty-three-year-old her mother."

The tone of the mother's voice suggested that she was on the verge of breaking into a tirade about how many hours she had spent in labor, giving birth to this ungrateful child – not to mention all of the other things she had done for her while growing up. This, after her husband had tossed her aside for some woman half his age. And now her daughter was calling this woman her mother! Despite being just three years older than this Lisa woman, Kagome understood the mother's view point, but had no idea how to respond. She settled with shaking her head slowly while making a disapproving _tsk_ sound.

After further arguing, the mother stated, "Either you get this pair, or you don't get any at all."

"Fine!" The girl replied and handed the headphones back to Kagome.

As they started to walk away, the mother turned back to Kagome and thanked her for her patience. Kagome just smiled and began to walk back to the cashier's counter. Some days, working at the store was more interesting than watching daytime dramas. She had heard the life stories of many people while working here. Some were funny, but others were listings of hardships. Either way, Kagome would stand there and listen, offering a sympathetic nod from time to time. Sometimes, people just needed someone to talk to.

"I need the keys at the Xbox case," Kagome heard Ichirou's voice over the radio, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"I'm on my way," She replied and walked toward the video game aisles.

When she got there, she greeted the woman standing next to Ichirou.

"I would like to get an Xbox 360," The woman requested.

Kagome smiled and nodded, "Which one would you like?"

"The 360." The woman answered as if Kagome were stupid for not understanding her the first time. Automatically, it set Kagome on edge.

"We sell three different systems," She explained while hiding her irritation behind a smile, and pointed out the three boxes.

"Oh," The woman replied. "What's the difference?"

Kagome repressed a sigh. She could tell this was going to be an experience with one of _those_ people, the ones who didn't know what they were buying. Most likely it was for her child, who insisted that owning a gaming system was a matter of life and death, and she had not bothered to learn anything about it. Either that, or she had gotten so caught up in the hype about it that, even though she was not a gamer, decided she had to have one. People like that annoyed her. To Kagome, coming into a store, saying that you want an item, but not knowing anything about it, was like handing over a blank check to the sales person. If Kagome were working on commission and had no integrity what so ever, she would take full advantage of a customer's ignorance. ("Oh, yes, you _need_ an Elite, and a 50-inch plasma TV to go along with it. It won't work on any other kind of TV.")

That was to say nothing of the many times that a parent came in to purchase an M-rated game for his or her ten-year-old child. The questioning looks when Kagome carded the parent . . . her explanation of the game's rating . . . then the look the parent would give the child that said, "You didn't _tell_ me it was mature-rated." It was funny, and sad at the same time. Shouldn't parents have a more active interest in their children's forms of entertainment? What else were those kids getting past their parents?

"Memory size," The most simple answer Kagome could give. She had long since given up trying to educate people in their purchases. They didn't listen, anyways. Customers had a way of asking the same question several times within the course of a conversation. Kagome would always answer the questions in the most simple way, but the customers still didn't get it. Either they weren't listening to her answers, or she had started speaking in another language without realizing it. Perhaps words like "gigabyte," "megabyte," and "hard drive" were still a foreign language to some people.

After Kagome pointed out how much memory each system had, despite the fact that they were shown clearly on the packaging, the customer asked, "Well how much memory do you think he would need?"

Kagome could only guess that "he" was either a son or a spouse, "That depends on how many games he will play and how many things he will download."

Oops, another word that seemed to throw her, "Download? What would he be downloading?"

"Video games, movie trailers . . ."

"And he can play more than one game at a time?"

"Yes, he can save games as he plays and switch off when he gets tired of one."

It seemed that her explanation had only added more confusion to the woman. What had seemed as a simple shopping trip had become a game of Three Card Monte. Which would be the right one to choose?

Kagome took pity on the woman and offered her honest advice, "I'd go with the 60 gigabyte. He can play old Xbox games on it, too. If it's not what he wanted, he can always return it."

The woman looked at her, "He can? Then I'll get that one." She pointed out her choice. "And if he wants any games or accessories, he can pick them out himself. I'm through."

Kagome retrieved the system and walked the customer to the cash register to ring out her purchase. After wishing the woman a good day and watching her walk away, Kagome looked at her watch. Good. It was finally time for her to take a lunch break.

She went in search of Ichirou. As the associate working in the closest department to electronics, he would be the one to cover the area while she was on break. This was a test, really. If he could handle the department during breaks, he could handle it for an entire shift. It was all part of the managers' plan. The poor guy.

She found him standing next to a cart of toys that he was working to put back in their proper places.

"I hate to do this to you," She stated as she held up her keys. "But it's time for my break, and I need you to cover my area."

Sesshoumaru took the keys without any comment, distracted by the melancholy feeling radiating from the girl. This wouldn't be the first time he had noticed it. After a moment, he replied, "It's not a problem. Enjoy your break."

Kagome smiled, "Thanks." She was about to walk away, but paused as she noticed something, "Do you smell grapes?"

"No."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Author's Note: I'm back, finally. Writer's block. What can you do? I had plenty of ideas, but couldn't motivate myself to get them written down or get events ordered they way I wanted them. No matter how I fiddled with this one, it seems a bit off. I'm starting to think I may need a beta – someone to check my grammar, to tell me whether or not an idea is good, and to get off my lazy butt and update already._

_For those of you wanting romance in this story, patience please. Sesshoumaru is . . . well . . . Sesshoumaru and Kagome has issues of her own. It will be a slow development and I have a somewhat complicated plot in mind – I hope I can pull it off._

_Anyways, thank you for your reviews. Knowing that so many of you want to keep reading makes me want to keep writing. I hope you didn't find this chapter too boring. I should update again, soon. _


End file.
